The First Breath
by LaViePastiche
Summary: When grief and uncertainty threaten to drown you, how do you catch your breath? For Support Stacie Auction winner JAustenlover. Collab with ElleCC. AH. Bella/Jasper.
1. Been a Son

**The **_**Twilight**_** series is the property of Stephenie Meyer - No copyright infringement is intended. **

**This entire fic is dedicated to JAustenlover who purchased it from the September Support Stacie Auction. Thank you, JA, for your generosity, and ****for ****your patience as we wrote way more than 25-50k. **

**I wrote Jasper's POV and Elle wrote Bella's. I apologize in advance to sensecoalition for what we're about to do....**

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_Her arms, I know it hurts  
It hurts to be young  
Metamorphosis is pain, I know  
I said it hurts to be young..._

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_**Been a Son**_

_**~ * ~**_

_**Jasper Whitlock**_

Peter is slumped in the passenger seat of my car, trying to sleep. He is distraught and I can barely look at him because I have never seen or known that kind of pain. It feels too raw and personal, so I keep my eyes trained on the road.

His father is dead. A cop, shot in the line of duty. In a dumpy little town in northern Washington, he was shot when he busted up a fight, unbeknownst to him, between a few rival gang members. Gangs… in Forks, Washington. I shake my head every time I think about it, the way nastiness has permeated even the sleepiest American towns.

People in my life have died – but never like this, never so unexpectedly. Peter said that although his father was a cop, it never occurred to him that he might be killed while on the job – Forks just wasn't that kind of place and his dad just wasn't that kind of cop.

I was there, in his dorm room, when he got the call. It was his father's best friend and fellow cop, a guy named Billy. Peter's tone was jovial for about three seconds before his shoulders stiffened. He dropped into a chair next to the phone and all the color drained instantly from his face. His expression was unreadable for so long, as he listened but did not speak. Finally, he squeezed his eyes shut, opened his mouth and whispered, "Bella…"

More than dealing with the pain of saying goodbye to his father, more than dealing with the funeral arrangements, the burial, the estate, and his own grief, he is terrified of seeing his twin sister. He said he was afraid everything would be amplified, doubled, when he saw her face. I told him maybe it was better that he had someone to go through it all with, but I knew it wasn't much consolation. I left the room when he called her, not just to give him privacy, but because I was fairly certain the conversation would be entirely too difficult to watch. When he came down to my room a few hours later and told me he was leaving to head back to Forks, I immediately offered to drive him. Pete doesn't have a car and I couldn't let him take public transit in the state he was in.

"Do you want to stop? Get something to eat?" I ask, turning up the heat because he looks cold.

"Nah. Wait, maybe can we stop and get a drink?"

I cock an eyebrow but I don't speak. It's not even two-thirty in the afternoon, but I figure he has a right to want a drink. I pull off the highway and find the first place that serves booze. It's just a dumpy little bar, but it'll serve its purpose just fine.

Pete takes a deep breath and exhales slowly before he gets out of the car. He keeps doing that, taking deep breaths, as if doing the smallest thing, like opening a door, is a challenge.

We walk inside and there are just two guys there, including the bartender. We sit at the bar and he immediately tosses coasters in front of us, and then places a dish of peanuts between them. I'm crazy hungry but I've heard things about peanut dishes in bars, and I don't want to order food in front of Peter. I have no idea why, but it just feels wrong to be eating when his father just got killed.

I order a beer and he goes straight for the hard stuff and orders a whiskey. The bartender plunks the drinks in front of us and I pay. Pete doesn't protest, but instead yanks his phone from his pocket and sighs again.

"Bella got on the plane about ten minutes ago." He downs the whole drink.

"How is she?" I immediately regret asking such a fucking stupid question. I wish I could grab the words from the air in front of me and stuff them back in my mouth. I'm not that great with dealing with sad people, and particularly not sad guys.

"Fucking…destroyed. This is surreal. I don't know how she's on a plane right now. I feel so bad for her, she's probably been bawling since I spoke to her." He shakes his head and flags the bartender for another drink. I'm tempted to advise him not to get shitfaced, that it will probably only make everything worse, but I remind myself that he's an adult.

Instead, I let him finish his drink in relative silence and then gently suggest that we should get back on the road. He doesn't protest and I realize that he probably just needed to take the edge off a bit. When we get back in the car he pulls his phone out again and stares at the text message from his sister. He shakes his head and turns almost fully to the window, and I know he's crying, so I look away and pull out of the parking lot.

Eventually, he calms down and finally falls asleep, and when he does, I can almost feel the tension in the car ease up a little bit. It's as if I can rest when he's resting. I don't get reprieve for very long though, because when I see a sign that says: "Forks, 12 miles," my gut twists up. I am nervous for him, and for myself, because it's sort of bizarre to witness all this grief without being a part of it. I feel like a voyeur.

I've already planned to offer to take him to the airport, to stay with him longer, if for some reason he needs it, and I feel like I am almost as apprehensive as he is about seeing his sister. I don't know her, but I know that seeing the two of them together will be fucking horrendous. I wince at these selfish thoughts, but I can't help them.

Peter wakes up just as I am about to nudge him, to ask him directions to his house. He rubs his eyes and then takes a deep breath, again. He looks around and then chokes out, "A left at the light. Then the first two rights. It's number two-oh-nine."

I follow his directions and as we pull into the driveway, and the house comes into view from behind the trees, he breaks down. I kill the engine and wait, not entirely sure of how I should comfort him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He's taking gasping breaths between sobs.

After a bit, he regains composure and sighs. "Maybe we should have just gone to Seattle and picked her up, before coming here. I don't know why I had to get here first."

"We can go back. She'll land before we get there, but you could tell her to wait."

"No, no, it's okay. My uncle's there. He'll drive her up. I should go inside, make sure the place is cleaned up and stuff."

I nod and get out of the car first. I pop the trunk and grab Peter's bag as he slowly exits the car. He never said if he wants me to stay, never invited me to, but I packed a bag just in case. I leave that one in the trunk and follow Peter up to the house.

He fumbles with his keys until he finds the one for the house and then fumbles with getting it into the lock. I feel like hugging him, but that would probably be weird. He finally gets the door open but hesitates before stepping inside.

"This is bizarre," he says.

I nod and step past him. I turn on the hallway lights and look around. Finally, he steps in and his head snaps toward a table in the hall. I follow his gaze and see a little dish, presumably for keys, and a picture frame. The picture inside is of a tall, relatively well-built guy with a mustache and longish hair, Peter, and a girl, who I naturally assume is Bella. She and Peter appear to be about twelve or thirteen years old: both with the same dark hair – though Peter's, like his dad's, is closer to black than hers – and lanky bodies.

Peter's face tightens and I wonder if he wishes I were gone, so he could be alone and really cry like he needs to.

"Fuck," he spits. He stumbles forward and grabs the table to brace himself.

I wrap my hand around his shoulder and squeeze. "Pete, I can leave…I can leave you alone if you need me to, or I can stick around. It's up to you."

He shakes his head and his face is turning red because he's holding his breath. I don't want him to stop himself from crying. "You don't have to stay; I know you've got to get back." It all comes out in one big breath that he's been holding.

"I'd rather stay. I don't have to get back. It's your house though, and your family, and I don't want to intrude. I don't know if your sister will want me here, or the rest of your family."

Pete takes a deep breath and straightens up. He turns to me and his eyes are red and wet. "Can you just stay then? They won't mind and I kind of just…I just want someone here who isn't part of all this shit, know what I mean?"

I nod, but wonder if Peter knows how much this is affecting me. Not that it's anything close to what he's feeling, but still, I wonder how much good I'll be to him. I'm glad though, that he's asked me to stay.

"I'm going to grab my bag from the car," I say before squeezing his shoulder once more.

When I walk back inside, Peter is sitting on the stairs, head in his hands.

"You should maybe lie down for a bit," I say, dropping the bag on the floor by the steps. "I can probably straighten up a little; I'm sure I can figure out where everything goes."

"I doubt I can sleep." His voice is muffled.

"So then just rest. You'll need it for later."

He runs his hands back through his shaggy black hair and then looks up at me. "Yeah, I guess I should try." He gets up and walks up the stairs without looking back. His shoulders are slumped forward a little and he looks like a zombie.

I walk into the kitchen and busy myself immediately with straightening up. Luckily, the place doesn't look too bad. I toss the newspaper on the table into the recycling and then wipe the table down and straighten the chairs. I walk into the family room and fold the blanket that is crumpled on top of a recliner. I feel like I am disturbing a crime scene or further wiping the memory of Pete's father from his own house. There is a book on the coffee table; it's face down but open, probably to the last page he was reading. I leave it.

When I run out of things to clean and straighten, I open the fridge and look for something to eat. It feels sick, and weird, and wrong, but I'm starving and I have to eat at some point. I grab some cheese, a pack of sliced ham and a bag of sliced bread from the fridge and quickly whip together a sandwich. I put everything back in the fridge and inhale the sandwich in about five seconds, as if I'm afraid of being caught.

I open the fridge again and I hesitate as I reach for a beer. They're his, and I wonder if I should leave them. Instead I grab a can of Coke and wonder why I am being inconsistently sentimental. I just think that if my old man died, I'd leave his beers in the fridge for a while, or chuck them right away. I know I wouldn't drink them.

At eight-thirty, I start to wonder if I should check on Peter. I've heard no noise from upstairs and his sister is due to arrive any time. I've been occupying myself with the TV, and I don't want to disturb Peter if he's finally managed to sleep, but I'm not sure I want to be the first person Bella sees when she comes home. Some stranger on her dad's couch, watching SportsCenter on his television.

A bit before ten, I finally decide to get up and see what's going on with Peter. As I head to the front hall, to the stairs, I see headlights flash in the long narrow window next to the door. When I get to the door, I peek out and see that a black car has pulled in behind mine. I watch for a moment and a girl steps out of the passenger side. Though I've only seen her in one picture, at twelve or thirteen years old, I know who it is. She opens the back door and pulls a suitcase from the car and then turns, leaning back against the door to close it. She looks up at the house and my heart starts to pound in my chest.

I cannot describe the guilt I feel for immediately noticing how beautiful she is. Her hair is long, full, and dark. Even from the distance, in the dark of the night, I can see the beautiful angles and perfect symmetry of her pale face. She is wearing a tan trench coat and a scarf, and for one second, her face is calm and luminescent before it twists in what appears to be raw agony. It's the same face that Peter made in the car when he saw the house. She teeters for a moment and then she lets go of the suitcase handle. It drops on its face as she falls to her knees in the driveway.

I flinch because my instinct is to run out there to her, to pick her up and hold her, but I stop myself, remembering that she doesn't know me. Instead, I watch as a man in a black coat gets out of the car and sprints around it until he is at her side. He tries to pull her up but she won't move and she is sobbing. He holds her and rubs her back as she gets closer and closer to the ground. I finally remember where I am, and I pull myself away from the window to wake Peter.

I take the stairs quickly and knock on his door. When there is no answer, I feel a surge of panic, and I wish I had come to check on him earlier. I open the door and find him asleep on his side, his face illuminated by the light in the hall.

He shifts and mumbles, and then finally his eyes open and he slowly sits up.

"She's here," I say, and it's every bit as ominous as it sounds.

"Fuck," he whispers. "Where is she?"

"The driveway. You'd better go."

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**This fic was inspired by three song prompts provided by JAustenLover: "Slow Dancing in a Burning Room" by John Mayer, "Possession" by Sarah McLachlan, and "The Long and Winding Road" by the Beatles. The title and the beginning quote come from Them Crooked Vulture's "Warsaw or the First Breath You Take After You Give Up."**

**A huge thank you to Legna989 who betaed this whole thing. This fic is complete and the next chapter will be posted on Tuesday (1/5)**


	2. Witness

**The **_**Twilight**_** series is the property of Stephenie Meyer - No copyright infringement is intended. **

**This entire fic is dedicated to JAustenlover.**

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_**Witness**_

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_**Jasper Whitlock**_

Peter gets up and I let him lead the way, following him out of his room and down the stairs. His hair and clothes are rumpled and he definitely looks like he just woke up, but I'm sure Bella is not going to notice or care. I hesitate at the front door when he walks out. I am not sure where to stand or what to do. I don't want to look, but I don't want to walk away either.

He crosses the lawn quickly and as he calls out, "Bells..." his voice cannot manage the single syllable and cracks in the middle.

She looks up and her face makes my chest hurt. Her eyes are black, and more black streaks down her cheeks. She calls out to him and erupts into a sob before she finishes saying his name. He drops to his knees in front of her and nods at the man, who stands up and steps back.

For a second I can't hear her and then she cries, "Daddy," followed by a wail and, "No, no, no, Daddy, no..."

Peter holds her tightly but he's crying, too, and now I know what he meant. There is no consolation in watching someone else reflect your pain. I can't imagine the pressure he must feel to make it better for her, to take care of her, when he's feeling the exact same thing.

She's asking _why, why, why_, as the man in the black jacket grabs her suitcase and his bag and walks toward me, toward the front door.

"Hey, there." He extends a hand as he steps onto the little porch area. "I'm Peter and Bella's uncle, Waylon."

I take his hand and shake it firmly. "Jasper. I'm a friend of Peter's from college. I drove him back."

"That's real nice of you, Jasper. You planning to stay in town with them for a little bit?"

"As long as Pete wants me to, yeah," I answer, looking back to the trembling heap of Peter and Bella on the driveway.

"How's he doing?" Waylon asks, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket. He lights one as he looks back at them. I realize that maybe that's just one of those questions everyone asks at a time like this, even if they know the answer.

"Pretty rough. He was really worried about how it would be to see Bella."

"I'll bet. Poor girl cried her eyes out almost the whole way here. Seems like she should be out of tears by now. Charlie was my only brother, but I gotta hold it together for these kids." He swipes at his eye and takes a long drag off his cigarette. I can hear the emotion in his voice, and I feel more and more out of place.

We stand in semi-awkward silence, not looking at each other and trying not to look at Peter and Bella. They've calmed down a little bit - Peter is sitting cross-legged on the driveway and has pulled Bella into his lap. It's damp and cold and I want them to go inside, but I say nothing.

Waylon drops his cigarette onto the porch and rubs it out with his foot. "I'm gonna take these bags in and maybe make tea or something for them."

I nod and grab the suitcase. I bring it inside and place it next to my bag, by the stairs, and Waylon heads into the kitchen, sighing, as all of the Swans seem to do.

I walk back out onto the porch and I am relieved to see Bella and Peter standing up. They walk slowly toward the house, Peter's arm is wrapped tightly around her but it looks as though they are leaning into each other, holding each other up. She looks at me and her big dark eyes, the opposite of Peter's deep navy blue ones, widen a little. She slows down a bit and when Peter whispers something in her ear, she nods and looks back at the ground. As they reach the front door, Bella's gaze lifts back to me, but she doesn't seem to focus.

"Hi, Jasper," she whispers weakly, as if she's always known me and just hasn't seen me in a while. I've never seen a girl looking so tired and so sad.

Peter pulls her into the house and leads her directly upstairs. I feel a strange compulsion to pull her from him and hold her. I hope to God it's not because I'm attracted to her; I hope to God I'm not quite so _basic._

I grab her suitcase and follow them upstairs. He leads her to the room next to his, and there's a little plastic Washington license plate on the door that reads "Isabella." They slip inside and I drop the suitcase by the door, just inside the room. I head back downstairs, leaving them to themselves.

In the kitchen, Waylon is making tea. He has shed his jacket and is wearing a red flannel shirt and jeans. I wonder what he does in Seattle because he seems to fit right in here in Forks. As he pours the hot water into a fourth cup, the telephone rings. I flinch, not expecting the sound. He looks around and then locates where the sound is coming from - the little mail basket on the counter. He grabs it and answers.

"Hey, Billy. Yeah, they're both here, along with a friend of Peter's from school. Well, as you'd expect I guess...pretty broken up." He ducks out of the kitchen and into the dining room area. Again, I feel a mixture of useless and unwelcome, though I know that I'm not - not the latter anyway.

I pick up two of the mugs and head back upstairs with them. Bella's door is still wide open, and she and Peter are sitting on her bed. She is sitting with her legs drawn up against her chest, her face now clear of makeup. Peter sits next to her, fiddling with a graduation tassel.

I hesitate at the door for a second and she looks up and smiles. "Come in, Jasper."

"Your uncle made you some tea," I say, handing her one mug, and then handing Peter the other.

"Who was on the phone?" Peter asks, wrapping his hands around the mug.

"Billy."

Bella is looking into her mug and when I say the name, her lower lip trembles. I am finding it harder and harder to stop myself from pulling her into my arms.

Peter slides over and motions for me to sit. We all sit in silence for a minute or two and then he gets up and puts his mug on her night table. He takes her mug from her hands and deposits that one, too. "Bella," he says, taking her hand. "Why don't you get changed and ready for bed. You're exhausted."

She shakes her head but still gets off the bed and lets him lead her to her dresser. She opens it and pulls out a few things and then follows Peter out of the room and to the bathroom. When she's in the bathroom, the door shut, Peter comes back into her room.

"I hope she sleeps tonight. She's wrecked."

I nod. "You both should sleep. Where should I..."

"Shit, right, you can sleep in the spare room. I guess Uncle Waylon will sleep..." He trails off for a second and then mumbles, "He'll probably just sleep in Dad's room."

I shake my head. "Give him the guest room, I'm fine with the couch downstairs."

"No, no. Just take the guest room. It's fine, really." Peter looks so exhausted, I wonder how he is still standing.

I don't want to argue with him and stress him further so I nod and turn to leave the room. As I head to the stairs, Bella opens the bathroom door. Her face has a bit more color, obviously having just been washed, and her hair is pulled up into a ponytail. She is wearing a Forks PD hoodie and sweats, and the front of the hoodie, near the neck, is wet. I can't tell if it's from washing her face or tears.

"Good night, Jasper," she says quietly as she passes me.

Something inside me tightens when she says my name. It's some kind of mix of empathy and something else. "'Night, Bella," I choke out, realizing it's the first time I've managed to really speak to her.

I head back downstairs to grab my bag. I remember that Waylon has made me a tea as well, so I go to get it, not wanting to be rude. I stand at the counter, drinking the lukewarm beverage and after a few minutes, he walks back in from the dining room.

"That was Billy Black, he's on the force, too, and a good friend of Charlie's. He was just filling me in. Peter and I'll have to go down to the hospital tomorrow. Pete'll have to sign some paperwork and then they'll move the body to the funeral home. They've got a special coffin for servicemen; Charlie's already arranged all this stuff, Pete just needs to sign off on it. It'll be a closed casket for the service…they, uh, they had to do an autopsy and, uh… " He stops and shakes his head. I want to tell him that he doesn't have to tell me all of this, but I get the impression he wants - or needs - to. "Well, it was a couple gunshots to the head." He shakes his head again and his lip quivers. "Bastard kids. What's wrong with these kids and their gun obsessions?"

"It's sick," I respond, placing my cup back on the counter. "It's just sick."

He takes a few deep breaths and I'm impressed by how quickly he manages to compose himself. "They caught all of them with the guns already. One of 'em's a minor but the other two are eighteen. Those kids'll pay, that's for sure. Killing a police officer doesn't go over easy, no matter where you are.

"Anyway, Pete'll have to sign everything – he's next of kin. We'll go talk to the funeral director after that and make those arrangements. I know Charlie's got everything taken care of. He's got it all in a file and Pete and I both know where to find everything."

I nod, because there's not much else I can say, or do.

"Listen, Pete told me to stay in the guest room, but you need your rest – it's going to be a busy couple days. I'm more than happy to sleep on the couch," I offer, wishing he would just accept.

He shakes his head. "Don't worry, I'm a big boy, I'll sleep in Charlie's room and you take the guest room. I'll be staying in a hotel tomorrow with the wife and kids. They weren't ready to come up today, but they'll be heading here tomorrow. "

He continues to talk about what family will be coming and from where, where they will be staying, how long they'll be here and even some of what they said when they found out. He never mentions Peter and Bella's mother, and though I knew she was out of the picture, I didn't realize just how much.

Finally, he admits that he's exhausted and excuses himself to bed. I wash both of our mugs and place them in the dish rack next to the sink. There is already a plate, a fork, a knife and glass in there, and a terrible feeling washes over me. It's seem so strange and unfair that someone can just be here one moment, and gone the next.

When I head back upstairs with my bag in my hand, Peter is slipping from Bella's room.

"She's asleep," he whispers.

"That's good," I say. "You think you'll sleep?"

"I slept this evening, so I don't know. I'm pretty exhausted though."

"Your uncle says you've got a lot to do tomorrow. You should really try." He nods and I feel a strange sort of relief at seeing him so composed.

"Yeah, I'm gonna go try right now." He turns toward his door and then hesitates and turns back to me. "Thanks, J. You've been really awesome. Thanks for staying."

I nod and point my bag in the direction of his room. "Go get some sleep."

I lie awake for a while and I'm not entirely surprised to find that my thoughts keep floating back to Bella. For some reason, her grief, the look on her face, the way she held herself, it resonated so much more with me than Peter's had. I wonder if it's because she's a girl, if it's some kind of macho, sexist reaction, or if it was something I saw in her face, that moment in the driveway before she was overcome.

I try to push her face and her presence from my mind, but when I let my guard down I find myself thinking of her again: non-descript images, memories of her face twisted in grief, though they feel far too recent to be called memories. Finally I fall asleep, and strangely, I sleep soundly.

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I awake with a start the next morning and it takes me a moment to remember where I am. I mustn't have dreamed at all, because I feel as if I've been gone - completely absent - from the world for hours. I feel good for a few brief minutes before everything comes flooding back. I think of Peter and Bella immediately and I wonder how awful those first waking moments are for them - when they realize that none of this was a dream.

I feel tired again almost instantly, but I manage to drag myself up and out of bed. I need a shower. I check my watch and I see that it's way earlier than it feels - only 7:05. I grab my shaving kit, boxers and a change of clothes from my bag and hope the bathroom isn't occupied. When I walk out into the hall, I notice that Peter's door is closed, as well as the door to Charlie's room. Bella's is open and her bed is empty but unmade. The bathroom is free so I quickly grab a shower.

As I shave, I try to think of ways to make myself useful while I am here. I'd like to help them but I don't want to be intrusive. I just don't want to feel useless, like some waste of space watching idly as their family falls apart. I imagine there is very little I can do without some direction, but I remember the mostly empty fridge, and figure some groceries might be a good start.

When I open the bathroom door again, a burst of cool air hits me and it feels good after the hot shower. I notice that both doors are still closed and I am hoping that Peter and his uncle have managed to sleep. I wonder what time Bella woke up this morning.

I grab my keys from the bureau in the guestroom and head downstairs. I see a coffee maker and decide to make a pot, if I can find the coffee. I am rifling through a cabinet when I hear a small voice coming from the family room.

"If you're looking for coffee, it's in the small cabinet to the right of the sink."

I stand there, frozen, and I'm not sure why.

"Thanks," I finally choke out. She's probably going to think I'm slow or something. "Would you like some?"

"No," she responds quickly. "Well, I guess...yeah, I guess so."

I find the coffee and the filters and brew a pot. While I'm waiting for it to finish, I consider sitting in the family room with her, but instead decide to just wait in the kitchen.

"What do you take?" I ask after it's finished.

"Milk."

I'm relieved I don't have to figure out where the sugar is. I pour milk in hers and leave mine black.

She's curled up on the recliner, a USC flannel blanket on her lap. She looks exhausted and still insanely beautiful. I hate the shame that creeps over me whenever I notice her beauty. I wish I had met her under different circumstances. I hand her the coffee and she attempts a smile.

"Maybe you should be drinking something that will help you sleep," I suggest.

"I can't. I won't sleep, it will only make me groggy. I slept a little last night."

I want to ask her how she is feeling, if she is okay, if she wants to talk. I want her to feel comfortable with me, though I don't know exactly how to encourage that. I know enough about loss, about grieving and sadness, to know that she probably doesn't want to be asked any of those questions outright, particularly by someone she doesn't know.

"I'm going to go get a few things. Can you tell me where the nearest grocery store is? Is there anything you need?" I ask instead.

She pulls her long hair back into a high ponytail. "Newton's is just a mile away. Basically you turn left out of our street and go straight. You won't miss it." She bites her lip and it looks like she has more to say, so I wait for a moment. "Hey, do you mind if I come along? I wouldn't mind getting out of here for a bit."

I make a concentrated effort to keep my eagerness from showing on my face. "Yeah, sure. You probably know what Pete likes better than I do."

She smiles and it's bizarre how good it makes me feel to see that. "I'll be right back, I'm just going to get dressed."

I feel nervous while she's upstairs. What if Peter wakes up and she decides to stay? What if he wants to come, too? I feel like an asshole, but for some reason I feel like I need this time alone with her. I kind of feel like she needs it, too.

"All right, I'm ready if you are," she says when she reappears in the kitchen.

We walk out to the driveway and my heart sinks when I realize Waylon has parked behind me. We'll have to wait until he gets up to go.

"No worries," she says before I can speak. "I've got his keys, I'll move the car." She holds the keys up and jingles them before sprinting over to the car.

"I wonder if I'll hate this town forever now," she says as we turn out onto the main road.

"I don't think so. I think it'll be hard for a long time, though. You grew up here, right?"

"Yeah," she says, scanning the landscape.

"You'll enjoy those memories someday. I know that's hard to believe right now."

"Have you ever lost anyone?" She turns to me, and I recognize the look on her face. I am not sure if I can bear to see her cry right now. Not while we're alone in the car. I don't think I could resist that overwhelming urge to hold her.

"Not a parent. Family members, yes. Nothing like this. I wasn't speaking from experience, just..."

"No, you're right. I am sure you are. I was just wondering."

"I can't imagine what you are Peter are going through. Or actually...I think I can. I know it's never happened to me, but when Pete told me... when I brought him home and when you came home...I know I never knew your dad, but I have a dad, too, and I can imagine..." I feel like I am rambling and I don't know why I am telling her this. I can't possibly be making anything better.

She smiles and I am floored by it again. I have to remind myself to keep my eyes on the road. "I don't think you have to go through it to imagine it. My roommate at USC, her dog died last semester. I cried for a whole day with her. I never had a pet but I could imagine if I had one and it died, how awful that would feel. I mean, he was seventeen years old. She grew up with him."

I don't know why, but she makes me smile. There's nothing funny or happy about any of this, but I smile anyway.

"It's just up here." I pull in and she takes a deep breath. "I am going to see someone I know in here."

"Well, at least it's early."

"It's a town of early risers."

"Do you want to wait in the car?" I ask.

"No, this has to happen at some point."

She opens her door, so I do the same. She grabs a cart from the line and we head inside. Sure enough, several heads turn when we walk in the door.

"Did I mention I know just about everyone in this town?" She leans into me to mumble, and I am smiling again.

We're meandering down the pasta and rice aisle when a blond all-American type guy in a dress shirt and slacks comes toward us from the opposite end. He's smiling sort of sadly and I assume he knows Bella.

"Bella," he says as he approaches. When he's close, he keeps walking and I step aside as he breezes past me and pulls her into a hug. She is stiff but pats his back as if she is consoling him.

"Bella, I am so sorry. The whole town is just...destroyed."

She nods into his chest. "Thanks, Mike."

He steps away but keeps hold of her shoulders. He frowns as he looks her over. "How are you, sweetie?"

She looks up at the ceiling for a moment before answering. "I don't know...I'm hanging in, I guess."

"He'll be missed. God, I saw Billy yesterday. He's distraught. How is Peter?"

I kind of hate this guy with all of his concern and stupid questions, but I have no reason to, and it makes me feel petty.

She sighs and I want to take her away from him. "Same, I guess. We should probably get this shopping done and get back, Mike. Maybe we'll have a chance to catch up later. I'm sorry, things are so crazy right now."

Mike shakes his head as if he's just awoken from a daze. "Yeah, no, of course. I'll see you...at the funeral and everything. I'm so sorry, B. Give Pete my condolences as well." He finally looks at me and half smiles, as if trying to place me or figure me out.

"Oh, yeah. This is Peter's friend Jasper, from school. Jasper, this is Mike, a friend from high school. His family owns Newton's grocery stores."

I nod and offer my hand. His handshake is limp and I try not to let it bother me. "Nice to meet you, Jasper." He turns back to Bella. "Okay, I'll see you soon. Be strong." He gives her this meaningful look that makes me want to laugh out loud. I'm not sure who I hate more, him or myself.

He heads back the way he came and after a moment she pushes the cart slowly forward. "He's an all right guy, he's just..."

I grab some cartons of soup off the shelf. "I didn't say anything." I look at her out of the corner of my eye and she's smirking. I can't stop the smile that spreads across my face, and then she laughs.

"He's so goofy."

I see so much of Peter in her. That must be why I feel like I know her, why I feel so comfortable with her.

"He seems nice. He was very concerned." I am being diplomatic, and maybe a little sarcastic. I'd almost feel bad except that it's making her smile.

"How did you and Peter meet?" she asks as we turn a corner. "He's mentioned you in passing, but I guess I never really asked him much."

"We met last year, in Psychology of Sport. I don't know how we became friends, really. It just sort of happened. This semester, we're living in the same residence, so we've been hanging out a lot."

"Psychology of Sport?"

"Yeah, it was required for me. I'm a Sports Management major. I think Peter took it as a psych elective."

"Sports Management, huh? How did you get into that?"

"I used to play baseball. I kind of always intended to make it a career but senior year of high school, I fucked up my elbow pretty badly, and that was that. So I figured I could work in sports on the other side."

She nods slowly and grabs a few bags of chips off an end cap. "That's too bad. It's so sad when athletes have those career-ending injuries."

"Well, I always knew that was a risk. I'm okay with it now, to be honest. I'm not sure I would have liked that life for myself anyway."

"Why?" she asks. I realize that maybe I shouldn't have been so hesitant about asking questions earlier. Clearly she's into them.

"Have you ever listened to an athlete being interviewed? Seen the stories about them that make the news?"

She throws her head back and laughs. "Good point."

We talk as we shop and before I know it, the cart is full and we're at the end of the frozen aisle. There is no line up at the checkout, and when everything is bagged and the cashier gives us the total, Bella pulls her wallet from the pocket of her hoodie.

"No," I say, quickly handing my credit card to the cashier.

"Jasper, no, don't pay-"

"I've got it, Bella. Please," I cut her off.

"Thank you," she says, her voice quiet. I want her to know it's not charity or anything - that I needed to do it to feel useful in some capacity. I don't know how to tell her that in a way that won't make her feel as though she has to reassure me, so I just leave it.

We load up the car and head out. We pull back into the driveway far too soon for my liking. She sighs heavily and looks out at the house.

"I don't want to go back in there." She looks down at her lap.

"We could go somewhere else for a bit, if you want?"

She shakes her head. "We have frozen stuff in the trunk."

"I'll unload the groceries first. You can wait here." I really want to take her away.

She smiles a little and shakes her head again. "I can't run away."

As much as I am disappointed, I love her strength. "Okay, c'mon then."

We manage to bring everything into the house in two trips. Peter comes downstairs a few minutes after we have everything put away. He's in plaid pajama pants and an old-looking band t-shirt, his hair sticking up all over the place. He looks like a kid in this house, for some reason.

"Hey," he mumbles, rubbing his eye. He heads straight for the fridge and gasps when he opens it. "Orange juice! Right on."

Bella grabs a glass from the cupboard and puts in on the counter in front of him as he opens the carton. "Don't get any ideas."

He chuckles and picks up the glass to pour the juice. For a second, things almost seem normal.

"You're usually not up this early," Peter says, holding the orange juice container out to me. I nod and he grabs another glass.

"Yeah, I don't know, new surroundings, I guess. Did you sleep okay?"

"Eventually." He turns to Bella. "You?"

She shrugs. He crosses the kitchen and wraps his arms around her shoulders and then all of a sudden she is sobbing. I wonder how he knew, if it was that twin thing or if I am just horribly imperceptive.

He holds her and whispers to her while she cries and I wonder if she's been holding it in all this time, waiting for someone who could comfort her. They move to the couch in the family room and sit down. A few minutes later, when I've run out of things to do in the kitchen, I walk over and lean against the entryway to the family room. She's calmed down now, and another minute or so later, she pulls herself from Peter's chest.

"I'm going to take a shower," she says.

He nods and pushes the tear-soaked hair from her face.

She gets up from the couch and smiles apologetically as she passes me. I want to grab her hand and pull her to me. I want to stop having those stupid impulses.

Peter and I talk casually for a bit as we make bagels, and when we sit down at the table, he lays out his plans for the day.

"We have to go to the hospital, the funeral home, probably down to the station, too. I want Bella to stay here; this part is going to suck and there's nothing she needs to worry about. We'll meet with a lawyer, too; it's a guy named Jenks my dad used for pretty much everything. He's gonna help me with this executor stuff."

"Did you want me to come, or..."

"I was thinking maybe you could stick around here with Bella? My Aunt Mary Beth will be here with my cousins at some point. I'm not sure if they are going to come here or go right to a hotel, but anyway, it would be good if Bella wasn't here alone."

To be honest, it's what I wanted him to say, but I was willing to be wherever he needed me. "Yeah, no problem, I'll stay."

"All right," he said, polishing off the last of his bagel. "I'm going to take a shower. Hey, thanks for getting groceries. Did Bella go with you?"

"Yeah, she wanted to get out of the house for a bit," I answer as I take his plate and mine and walk them to the sink.

"What do you think of her? She's cool, right? I mean I guess you're not really meeting her under the best circumstances, but normally she's pretty funny." He smiles brightly when he talks about her, his expression full of pride.

"Yeah, she's cool," I say, gunning for the Understatement of the Year award. I figure it's better than sayin_g yeah, she's also gorgeous and sweet and I don't know her, but all I can think about is kissing her, despite how inappropriate that is given the situation. _I wince a little at the admission, even if it's not out loud. "We ran into some guy named Mike at the store. The infamous Newton, of Newton's groceries?"

Peter chuckles. "Yeah. That guy...he was always after Bella in high school. I had to kick his ass a couple times. How did that go?"

I knew there was a reason I didn't like the guy. "It was okay - he asked her a lot of questions, but she was all right. We kind of just laughed at him."

He smiles. "Yeah, he's ridiculous, but he's mostly a nice guy."

I nod and after Pete puts the juice back in the fridge, he heads upstairs to shower.

~ * ~

An hour or so later, Pete and Waylon leave for the hospital and they plan to be gone most of the day since they have to visit the lawyer and the funeral home as well. The funeral is on Thursday and there is a wake planned for Wednesday - tomorrow - night, so they have very little time to get everything arranged.

I clean up the house for a little bit, focusing mostly on the kitchen and then straightening where I can. I find a vacuum in the hall closet so I do all the floors on the first level. My mom would pass out if she saw me with a vacuum in my hand, because normally you couldn't pay me to do this shit, but I want to help out and I want to keep busy. When I've straightened as much as I can, I get a soda and sit on the couch, and zone out to MTV for a bit.

Bella comes downstairs shortly after and sits in the recliner next to the couch. She's wearing a black sweater with big buttons and a pair of tight dark blue jeans. I smile at her and turn back to the TV, wondering if my gaze lingered on her legs for too long.

"Wow, they are actually showing videos on MTV?" she asks, chuckling.

"Yeah, they show about twenty minutes of them in total, a day, at odd hours here and there."

She nods and we sit in what feels like awkward silence, though that could just be my own perception, for a few minutes before she speaks again.

"My friend Jake and his dad, Billy, are coming over. They should be here soon." She pulls her legs up onto the recliner and tucks them under her.

"Billy, he's the one who..."

"Yeah, he... was my dad's best friend. He's on the force, too."

I nod slowly, thinking this is going to be another difficult day for her. "You going to be all right?"

She smiles at me and it hits me again, just how fucking beautiful she is. "It'll be hard to see them, yeah. But good, too. They understand."

She gets up and then returns a minute later with a bottle of water. I realize I haven't seen her eat yet. "Do you want some lunch?"

"No thanks, I'm not really hungry," she responds, shaking her head.

I want to push her to eat, but I don't want to be annoying. It's easy to forget to eat, though, when you're upset and the worry wins out. "You haven't eaten in a while, have you?"

She looks down. "Yeah, I guess I didn't really eat yesterday. I wish I had an appetite, I really do."

"You may have to just force it. Just some crackers or some soup or something like that if you can. I mean, you've got to eat..."

She nods and looks up again. "I'm nervous about seeing Billy and Jake. After they leave, I'll eat something."

I'm dying to ask her to come crawl into the little space between my body and the armrest of the couch. "So you've known them for a while, huh?"

"Since we were kids. Jake and I dated in high school, too. We broke up senior year." She nervously pulls at the hem of her cardigan and I try to control the first inklings of irrational jealousy over the mention of an ex-boyfriend.

"Have you talked to him, since you've come home?"

"Yeah, we were just on the phone upstairs, that's how I know they are coming. It sucked."

"Well, at least you've had a chance to talk about it a bit." I keep trying to put a positive spin on things. I don't know why I feel compelled to do that, but I assume it's just human nature. I wonder what she'd say if I said _yeah, and it's just going to keep on sucking, probably for a really long time._

We stare at the TV for a bit, occasionally making comments about what's on, but there's not much conversation aside from that. There's a weird tension between us. The conversation is never really awkward, but I feel nervous as shit around her and I feel like I'm not the only one. I wish for that comfortable banter we had at the supermarket but it's just not there. We do that glance-stealing thing, but I'm guessing maybe some of this tension is one-sided because I can't stop thinking of the shit I'd like to do with this girl if the circumstances were a little different. I try to keep it in check because I feel like even in my head I should be respectful, but the more interaction I have with her, the harder it gets.

The doorbell pulls me from my thoughts, and when she jumps up to get the door, I sigh, preparing myself to meet this asshole who got to date her.

They don't come in right away and after a minute I hear Bella's muffled, high-pitched sobs. The sound tears through me; it's like torture. I try to focus on the television and not listen to her crying and gasping for air in the hallway. Finally, after maybe five or ten minutes, they appear in the kitchen. Both men are really big and look almost identical, except one is a lot younger. They look South American or Native or something, and they both have long black hair. The younger one has his arms around Bella and she practically disappears inside them. He is holding her and leading her toward the family room and she's sniffling quietly. When they come into the room, I stand and the older one extends his hand as Jake sits in the recliner with Bella. It's not lost on me that he gets to hold her and comfort her like I've wanted to since the moment I saw her, but I'm trying not to be petty.

"Hey there, I'm Billy Black." His eyes are red-rimmed and watery, and he's sniffling a bit, too.

I shake his hand. "Jasper Whitlock. I'm a friend of Peter's from school."

Billy nods and then Jake reaches out to shake my hand and introduces himself.

"I guess Peter and Waylon are down at the hospital and such?" Billy asks.

His comment elicits a weak wail from Bella and then Jake is pulling her closer and kissing the top of her head.

Billy nods out toward the kitchen and I follow him. He continues to the dining room and then speaks in hushed tones. "You heard from Pete since he left?"

"No, we haven't."

He nods. "These kids...this is just so hard for them, especially not having a mother around either. How have they been doing?"

I almost want to laugh, but only because I feel like their spokesperson. "Not great, as you'd expect, I guess. Pete's holding it together as best he can. Bella seems to be taking it pretty hard." Go figure, taking her father's death hard. How observant, Jasper.

Billy nods. "We're over in La Push, and I'm at the station a lot, it's only about five minutes from here. If you kids need anything while you're here, you give me a call. Help with the arrangements, groceries, whatever, you call me. Jake'll help with anything, too. My wife passed away when Jake was a kid. Few years older than when Bella and Peter's mom left, so he knows what it's like."

Talking to him makes me feel relieved; Peter and Bella clearly have a lot of good people in their lives. My family moves around so much that if something happened to my parents, I don't know what kind of support we'd have that didn't have to travel in from out of town. "I'm sorry to hear that. But I guess he'll be a lot of comfort to Bella right now, since he understands," I begrudgingly admit. I'm glad, truly glad she has people in her life that can help her, but I can't control that little bit of jealousy I feel that he gets to comfort her, and that she probably confides in him. At this point, I don't even question it that much; I'm getting used to this new irrational side of myself. "I'll let Peter know that you guys stopped by."

Billy and I wander back into the kitchen just in time to see Bella and Jake heading upstairs. Billy says he's going to head to the station for a bit to see what's going on with the kids who were arrested, and that he'll be back to pick up Jake in a little bit. When Billy leaves, I sit back down to watch TV and try not to think about what's going on upstairs. I hear footsteps on the stairs sooner than I had expected and a minute later, Jake walks into the family room.

"She needed to sleep; she was exhausted," he says, pulling his hair back.

"She asleep now?" I ask.

"Yeah." He plunks himself down on the recliner. "So you're buddies with Peter, huh? From school?"

"Yeah, we met last year."

"Cool, he's an awesome guy. How long have you known Bella?"

"I don't, really. I just met her yesterday."

Jake grimaces. "I guess that's not a great way to meet someone new. She's really awesome. I wish you could have met her under better circumstances," he says, mimicking what Peter said earlier in the kitchen.

He's a nice guy and I am a little ashamed at how much my jealousy prevents me from liking him. His presence is a reminder of my utter ridiculousness.

We sit for a while, alternating between watching television and making light conversation. I am fairly certain neither of us feels like talking all that much. I am thankful when I hear the door open; I assume it's Billy back to pick up Jake, but it ends up being Peter and Waylon.

Jake stands as Peter walks in the room and they give each other a hug. "Peter, man, I'm sorry," Jake mumbles.

When they separate Peter looks down and shakes his head. "Yeah. Thanks for coming over, Jake. Where's Billy?"

"He just went to the station for a bit, he'll be back."

Pete turns to me. "We gotta go out in a few, to the lawyer. We just wanted to grab something to eat."

I get up and walk with him to the kitchen to help make something for lunch. "Everything go...okay?"

Peter shrugs. "Eh, you know. It sucked. Where's Bells?"

"She's asleep," Jake says, sitting down at the table. Peter holds a loaf of bread up, offering him lunch, but Jake shakes his head. "Nah, we'll probably go as soon as Dad gets back."

Peter and I make sandwiches as he and Jake talk. I make one for Waylon as well, who returns to the kitchen a few minutes later. The four of us sit at the table and somehow manage to keep the conversation light for a few minutes while we eat. Billy returns shortly after we finish, and after he and Peter talk on the porch for fifteen or twenty minutes, he and Jake say goodbye to Waylon and me and say they'll be back tomorrow, sometime before the wake.

Bella is still asleep when Peter and Waylon leave again. I call my mom and fill her in on what's going on, and then head upstairs to grab my copy of _Welcome to the Monkey House _from the guest room. I contemplate bringing it back downstairs but instead decide to lie down for a bit and read. I'm practically nodding off when my door, which was slightly ajar, opens.

"Oh, hey," Bella says, as if she wasn't expecting to find me here.

"Hey." I sit up. "Everything okay?"

She nods, and she looks cute and sleepy. "I fell asleep for a really long time. Are Peter and Waylon back?"

"They came back a bit after you fell asleep but left again. I think they should probably be back soon, though."

She lingers in the doorway for a moment and I'm pissed that I can't seem to find anything to say. I want to tell her that never in my life have I been awkward, that _she_ does this to me. I want to invite her to get in bed with me.

"I'm gonna go watch some TV and maybe make some dinner for when they get home," she says, focusing her attention on the doorknob.

"Do you want company?" I ask. I drop my book on the bed and get up before she answers. "I'm not completely useless in the kitchen."

She smiles and says, "Okay, we'll make something simple," as she turns to leave the room. I follow and selfishly hope that we have a little more time alone before Peter gets home.

* * *

**Legna betaed it all, and also kindly wrote the summary. LVP writes Jasper POV, Elle writes Bella POV.**

**JA started a Twilighted thread for us. Come chat! ****http://tinyurl(dot)com/ykkv5zr****. We'll put the link in our profiles, as well. **

**Next chapter will be up on Thursday (1/7).**


	3. Last Exit

**The **_**Twilight**_** series is the property of Stephenie Meyer - No copyright infringement is intended. **

**This entire fic is dedicated to JAustenlover.**

* * *

_**Last Exit**_

_**~ * ~**_

_**Jasper Whitlock**_

I relish the little moments here and there that I have with Bella. They are constantly being interrupted, and it's expected given the situation, so I just try to enjoy the small blocks of time we spend alone. It always starts out awkwardly, although I wonder if it's just awkward for me because of my attraction to her and the guilt I feel for it. I wonder why I feel guilty - it's not as if it's something I can control, not as if I _get off _on the circumstances - but I do. Maybe because I wish I could rise above the attraction and not keep thinking about her the way I am.

Regardless, once we get to talking it usually becomes surprisingly comfortable and familiar. She relaxes and when she starts talking I get to see glimpses of the girl that she probably is when she's not buried under the weight of grief. I start to realize that it's really not just physical attraction, and though it worries me a bit, when we're talking, I try to just enjoy her company and keep her at ease. The more I talk to her, the more I want to know about her, but we rarely ever get into any personal stuff. I have lots of questions but she generally keeps the conversation casual, so I try to follow her lead.

When Peter and Waylon get home from their morbid errands, they are wiped, emotionally and physically. We have a quiet dinner and then Waylon takes his bags and leaves to meet his wife and kids at the motel where they are staying, a few minutes away. Peter, Bella and I talk and watch TV for a while after dinner but both of them are so tired they end up heading to bed pretty early. I sit up and read for a few hours, unable to sleep thanks to the jumble of thoughts turning over in my head.

A lot of them are about Bella, but not all. I am not looking forward to tomorrow. The wake will be incredibly difficult for Bella and Peter, not to mention the rest of the family and friends, and I will likely be the only one there with no direct connection to Charlie. I have begun to feel a little more comfortable in the house, maybe even useful at times, but when more family arrives, I figure I'll probably revert back to feeling like some sort of interloper.

I close my book when I start to feel tired, and remind myself one last time that my presence here is all about Peter. I am here to support him and to help, and whether or not I feel uncomfortable while doing it doesn't matter. My attraction to his sister is just something I need to push aside, because it's the wrong time and the wrong place, and my disappointment at the realization of that is also something I just have to deal with. None of this is about me.

The next day begins early and is busy with preparations for the wake and funeral. When I get downstairs, Bella and Peter are already up, making calls and plans. I help with whatever they task me with and by late morning, it's clear that the planning is already weighing on Bella. She's wearing what you might call a game face, but even to me it's clear that there are heavy emotions being pushed back. Peter picks up on this immediately and tries to dial back her involvement without making it too obvious. In the afternoon, Peter takes Charlie's car to meet his Uncle Waylon, and the two of them head to the ferry to pick up two families coming in from out of town. While they are gone, Bella's friend Angela stops by to visit, shortly after Bella's aunt, Mary Beth, leaves to get lunch for her kids, who are still at the motel.

While Bella was waiting for Angela to arrive, she told me that Angela's father was a minister at the local Lutheran church, the church Bella and Peter attended as kids with their father. They've been friends since elementary school and Reverend Weber will be doing the funeral service at his church. Once again, I figured that it would be yet another emotional visit for Bella.

When Angela arrives, the girls head directly upstairs. I go upstairs shortly after them and grab a book I'm reading for Emerging Issues in Sports Business and my laptop from my bag and then head back down to sit at the kitchen table. I have a paper due Monday for the class, so I figure I should take whatever opportunity I can to work on it. I manage to get a couple pages typed before Bella and Angela come back downstairs. They walk into the kitchen and I notice Angela is very much the picture of a small town minister's daughter. She's tall, thin, and plainly dressed, but she has a warm and friendly smile. I glance at Bella, who looks as though she's been crying.

"Jasper, this is my friend Angela," she says. "Ange, this is Jasper, Peter's friend from school."

Angela smiles brightly, but now I notice her eyes behind her glasses and they look a little red and puffy as well. I stand from the table and extend my hand. "Hey, it's nice to meet you."

"You, too, Jasper. It was nice of you to drive Peter up here." She turns to Bella and they exchange a look that I can't decipher.

"C'mon, Ange, I'll walk you out."

Angela smiles at me again. "It was nice to meet you, Jasper. I guess I'll see you this evening."

The girls turn and walk arm-in-arm into the hall, and a moment later I hear the front door open and close. I sit back down at the kitchen table to continue working on my paper and a couple minutes later, I hear the door open and close again. I expect Bella to come back into the kitchen, but instead I hear footsteps on the stairs and then a few minutes later I hear music. I can't make it out but it sounds vaguely familiar. I stand up and walk into the hall and then I can make out the sound of crunchy guitars. I wonder if maybe she's upset and that's why she didn't come back into the kitchen.

I take two steps up the stairs and then I recognize that it's "Corduroy" by Pearl Jam. I feel like she's calling to me, but she can't be. She can't know they are my favorite band. I keep walking toward the music as if it's some sort of beacon.

Her bedroom door is ajar enough that I can see her sitting on the floor, her back against the bed. Her head is tilted back and her eyes are closed. I'm at her door and before I can knock, she lowers her chin and opens her eyes.

"Come in," she says, straightening up a bit.

I hesitate, suddenly unsure of what I am doing here, but when she looks at me expectantly, I enter. I stand in the middle of the room awkwardly for a moment before I nod toward the stereo.

"I love this song. This band."

She shifts and brings her knees to her chest. "Yeah? Me, too."

We watch each other for a moment. "You can sit, if you want." She nods to the bed, and then the floor, giving me options.

I sit on the bed first and then realize that it's ridiculous for me to be so much higher than she is, and I lower to the floor. My legs stretch out in front of me and I feel huge next to the balled up girl next to me.

"I hope Peter is okay, he's been doing so much here. Taking care of everything, practically."

"He seems to be holding up all right. He can keep it together when he needs to," I say, hoping it provides a bit of reassurance. "Sometimes having that stuff to take care of, it's almost like a distraction."

She nods and stares at the lock of hair she's twirling around her finger. "That's kind of what I'm afraid of. I think it's actually going to get worse than this. Later, when it all sinks in. I can't imagine that."

"Nothingman" comes on and I'm tempted to get up and change it. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. She drops her legs so that she's sitting Indian-style and leans forward.

"I just think…What if we never get over this? Or what if Peter does and I don't?"

I take a deep breath and try to plan my words so they sound comforting and not pessimistic. "I'm not sure it's about getting over it, so much as moving on. It'll get easier, you'll feel better, even if it's not quite the same."

She shakes her head and I'm not sure if she realizes it, but she leans toward me a little.

"I don't want to feel different. I don't want to feel like this. I don't want this to be real."

I turn my body so that it's facing her just a bit. "I know it's hard to believe right now, but you won't feel like this forever. You just…you won't. That doesn't mean you'll love him any less, either."

She nods and we sit and listen to the music for a while. When I look down again, I realize we are closer. Her knees are pulled up again and she puts her head on them.

"Sometimes I think I don't have a tear left in me, and then sometimes I think I might never stop crying." Her eyes are wet but she doesn't look like she is going to cry. She turns her head to me and lifts it a little bit, like she's waiting for me to tell her what happens next.

I decide to take a chance. It feels unnatural to sit here and listen to her speak honestly about her grief and not physically comfort her. I wonder if I wasn't attracted to her, would I really be so hesitant to touch her? It starts to feel like maybe keeping my distance is the more unnatural reaction, so I raise my arm and push my hand into her hair and wrap it gently around the back of her slender neck, gently rubbing the soft skin with my thumb. I don't know if we know each other well enough for me to do it, but I do anyway because it seems like a nice gesture, and she seems like she needs it, and maybe just a little because I've really been wanting to touch that spot.

She leans into me more and now my heart is pounding and I think maybe this wasn't such a good idea because I am completely unprepared to be so close to her.

"You will stop. We're built to survive this kind of stuff. You'll be all right," I say, perhaps only to help distract myself from the feel of her skin under my hand.

"You sound so sure," she says, tilting her head and looking up at me. "Is there a reason you're so sure?"

I think for a moment. I _am_ sure, although I don't entirely know why. I suppose it's because a hell of a lot of people have been through exactly this before, and hell of a lot more will go through it after. I don't tell her that though.

"No. It's just the way it is, I guess. I mean you just…you observe people, you know? And you see it." I chuckle at a memory. "My mom always quotes the Bible, 'this too shall pass.' It's almost universally true."

She smiles a little and leans into me and against my hand. I shift a little closer because I'm apparently magnetically drawn to her, and our faces seem to get closer and closer as well. I tilt my head a bit and we're at a perfect angle. It would be nothing to close this small distance between our mouths. My thumb halts its movement on her neck, and possibly my grip tightens just a bit.

Her eyelids flutter and then she drops her heavy-lidded gaze to my mouth for just a moment before they close completely. I am pretty sure she is telling me she wants me to kiss her, and I sure as fuck want to. I'm staring at her perfect pink lips and I can already imagine how sweet she tastes. I want to kiss her more than I've ever wanted anything, I am fairly certain, but the part of me that is decent and reasonable keeps shouting at me. Shouting over the din of, _do it. Look at that face, that mouth…do it, she wants you to_; it reminds me that she is beside herself with grief – that she is confused and upset and that there is more than a good chance that her judgment right now cannot be trusted. It reminds me that this is more or less the textbook definition of _taking advantage_. I look at her bottom lip and imagine, one more time, pulling it between my teeth, before I sigh and then clear my throat. Her eyes open again and the spell is broken.

She looks down and I don't miss the flash of embarrassment that crosses her face. I wonder if I am able to do anything right at this point. I slowly move my hand from her neck to her shoulder and squeeze.

"Bella," I start, but she cuts me off.

"Peter's home!" Her voice is off and her brow is furrowed. She hops up and exits the room quickly. "C'mon," she adds. Her tone is overly light and casual, and I'm fairly certain it's fake, but I still allow myself to feel a miniscule amount of relief.

I get up and follow her and, sure enough, as I get to the stairs, Peter is closing the front door behind him.

"Hey, guys," he says. "I dropped everyone at Forks Motel so they could rest and get ready for this evening. Thought maybe we could all use some quiet time before tonight, too." He rubs Bella's back and kisses her head before heading into the kitchen. "What did you guys do this afternoon?"

"Aunt Mary Beth was here, and then Ange came over," Bella answers, grabbing a can of Coke from the fridge and handing it to Peter.

"Oh yeah, how is she?" Peter asks, cracking the can open. Bella grabs another from the fridge and extends it to me, but keeps her eyes on Peter. I stare at her for a moment, hoping she'll look at me and give me some indication of how she's feeling about what happened upstairs, but she doesn't turn to me, so finally I just take the can from her hand.

"She's okay. She was upset. You know...it's Angela. I think I even ended up comforting _her _for a little bit."

"I stopped by the funeral home after I dropped everyone off. Reverend Weber came by, too, to talk a little bit about tomorrow."

Peter sits at the kitchen table and Bella pulls out a chair next to him. "Peter you've done so much. I can do stuff too, you know. I want to help."

Pete squeezes her shoulder. "Bells, you've done plenty. Dad wouldn't have wanted you to deal with all this bullshit. I'm okay."

She nods and looks down and her lap. After a minute Peter pulls his hand back and turns to me. "There's some Premier League on Fox SportsWorld, I think. Want to watch a game before it's time to get ready to go?"

"Yeah, why not?" I answer.

He grabs a bag of chips out of the pantry and then the three of us head into the family room. We get about forty-five minutes into the game before Bella falls asleep on the recliner. Peter is focused on the game but I'm completely preoccupied by thoughts of the almost-kiss in her room, and I can't help but continuously steal glances at her. Her face is peaceful and relaxed, an expression I haven't yet seen on her, and it suits her. My gaze accidentally lingers too long and Peter looks over at her and then at me.

"She's exhausted. I bet she's barely sleeping at night. I wish we didn't have to wake her up soon."

I study his face carefully for any sign that he might be suspicious. I am actually shocked that he doesn't question why I was looking at her, shocked that he hasn't yet noticed just how often I'm looking at her when she's in the room. I consider the possibility that maybe it's all just amplified in my mind, like when you're talking to someone who has something weird on his face, like a giant mole or something, and after you're done you feel like you just stared it at the whole time and can't even really remember the conversation.

"Yeah, I'd imagine she's pretty tired. Plus, sleeping at odd hours like this doesn't help with sleeping at night."

Peter nods and looks back at her one more time before we both return our attention to the game.

~ * ~

At five, we're all dressed and ready to go. Peter and I wear black dress pants and shirts; Peter has a jacket but I forgot to bring one, or rather, I didn't think to since I was unsure I'd even be here for the wake and funeral. He reassures me that we're in Forks and no one will bat an eye.

As soon as we get downstairs, Billy calls to let us know that he'll meet us at the funeral home, instead of at the house. We both stand in the kitchen and lean against the counter to wait for Bella. She walks in a few minutes later, and I can't really bring myself to look at her because I can already feel the beginnings of what will be a completely inappropriate physical reaction. She's wearing a simple black sweater and a black skirt that falls just below her knees, but everything hugs her tightly. It's certainly demure but also sexy as hell. Her hair is down and it looks all soft and shiny and pretty, but I'm having a hard time keeping my eyes from travelling down her body, so instead I just try to divert my attention elsewhere.

"Do I look okay? I didn't want to put on much make-up." She's talking to Peter but I want to butt in and say, "Hell yes, now go upstairs and change into something more frumpy."

She and I _both _patiently await Pete's assessment of her outfit. I am rather curious to know what a brother's take on it would be.

"Yeah, Bells, you look great," he responds casually, rubbing her arm as he passes her and heads to the front door.

Her eyes flicker quickly to mine and I want to offer my input but refrain because I'm not sure it won't come out too overzealous. I'm still thinking about what happened in her bedroom and as much as I know I did the right thing, I seem to be regretting my decision more and more with each passing hour.

She turns and follows Peter and I turn the lights out in the kitchen and then catch up with them as they're heading out the front door.

"Uncle Waylon will be here any minute. We'll go in his car and he'll go back to pick up Aunt Mary Beth and Meghan and Harry a little later. Tomorrow we have a car picking us up."

We walk down to the end of the driveway to wait since it's not too wet or cold tonight. When Waylon turns onto the street, Bella abruptly turns to face Peter, her expression a mix of panic and horror. "Peter, I'm not ready."

He puts his hand on her shoulder and then moves it to her neck and pulls her close. "I know. We just have to do this okay? We just have to get it over with."

I watch them and it isn't until Waylon gets out of the car and greets us that I realize she and I have been staring at each other. I'm standing just behind Peter and her face is pressed against his shoulder but she's watching me. She always seems to be telling me something with her eyes, but her gaze breaks so quickly, like a frightened animal's, that I'm never able to decipher the message. Maybe I'm imagining things...maybe it's wishful thinking, but I need to know what those looks mean.

Peter nods to Waylon and then helps Bella into the back seat and slides in next to her. I sit up front with Waylon, and as we drive to the funeral home, he tells me a little about the town. Peter and Bella are silent in the back seat. I glance back, pretending to look at the library that Waylon has just pointed out, to see Bella resting her head on Peter's shoulder. They are both looking out her window and now, more than ever, they look like twins.

We arrive at the funeral home just a few minutes later and Peter and Bella emerge from the car slowly. We walk into a reception and lobby area where an attendant comes to take our coats. There's a set of double doors to our right with two giant circular wreaths and a sign that reads "Charles Swan" in fancy script. Waylon heads immediately into the room and I start to follow, but stop and turn to see what Bella and Peter are doing.

She's shaking her head, her hair flying around her shoulders as Peter gently tries to pull her toward the room.

"Bells, please, we have to." His voice is pleading but he sounds like he's trying to convince himself.

I walk the few short steps back to them and Peter turns fully toward the door, taking her hand. I stand next to her, waiting until they are ready to head in and she reaches out and grabs my forearm. Her fingers dig in and I can't tell if she is anchoring herself or asking to be led in. Peter tugs just a little and she takes hesitant steps forward, still gripping my arm. After those first shaky steps, she finally relents and lets us lead her into the room

Even _I_ feel it when we walk in there. The room is empty still, aside from us, because the visitation starts at six. At the very front of the room there is a closed casket with an American flag draped over it. I feel a twinge in my chest at the sight, knowing my father's funeral will someday bear a striking resemblance to this one. The image of the flag-draped coffin haunts most military families, particularly those who have members on active duty. It's a reaction that, after twenty-one years, feels damn near instinctual.

At the head of the coffin is a large photo on an easel of Charles Swan in full uniform. He looks shockingly young. I had seen the photo of him in the hall but Peter and Bella were kids then, and I had just imagined him looking much older. Surprisingly, he doesn't.

The room is lined with couches and armchairs, a few tables, each with at least two boxes of tissues on them. There are flowers everywhere and soft, sad classical music is filtering in from speakers lining the ceiling.

I have about thirty seconds to take all of this in before I feel Bella buckle next to me, her grip on my arm tightening again. I look over and Peter has momentarily dropped her hand. Unsure of what to do, I grab her and pull her to me as she lets out this _sound_. It's a wail and sob, and it's just high pitched and awful. She sucks in a choking breath while I hold her firmly against my chest. I move one hand to her back and the other to her hair and let her cry against me. I can already feel her tears soaking my shirt, and a wave of nausea passes through me; the grief in the room is palpable, even though no one has yet arrived.

Peter turns to us looking far away and half-stunned, and then slowly a look of recognition creeps back over his face and he tugs Bella away from me. He walks her to the closest armchair and they collapse into it; the sight of them is reminiscent of Monday night in the driveway. Bella is worse this time, though. She's practically choking in between her muffled wails and Peter is trying to hold it together for her, but as expected, he's unable to.

I just stand and watch them and I can still feel her in my arms, the wetness of her tears still spreading through the fabric of my shirt.

The evening continues with much of the same and little relief. When Jake arrives with Billy, Bella breaks down harder than before and Jake picks her up and carries her out to the hallway. After that Bella sobs nearly every time someone new comes to sit with her. Peter rarely leaves her side and though he holds it together a little more successfully than she does, he has several - quieter - breakdowns as well.

They aren't the only ones. Lots of people are crying. Most of them are. Some of them are okay until they talk to Bella or Peter, and then they are _all_ crying. I try to hang back as much as I can, talking to people if they approach me. The whole thing ends up being harder than I imagined, and seeing Bella and Peter so distraught leaves me feeling as though I'm in some surreal state of shock. I've given up worrying about being able to do something or feel useful, and I just hope that both of them find some relief before the end of the night. Tomorrow it starts all over again, except it'll be so much worse, because tomorrow they say goodbye in a much more permanent fashion.

* * *

**Legna betaed it all. Next chapter will be up on Saturday (1/9). From there we will go to a regular Saturday/Wednesday posting schedule.**

**Thanks to all who have reviewed thus far - particulary those who have taken the time to leave comments on both our updates - your feedback is greatly appreciated.**

**Our Twi'd thread is here: http://tinyurl(dot)com/ykkv5zr**


	4. Release

**The **_**Twilight**_** series is the property of Stephenie Meyer - No copyright infringement is intended. **

**This entire fic is dedicated to JAustenlover.**

* * *

_**Release**_

_**~ * ~**_

_**Jasper Whitlock**_

The funeral and interment the next morning and afternoon are, as expected, even worse than the wake. Peter and Bella are both exhausted before the day even starts, but both of them manage dry eyes up until the service begins. The sting of the vision of the flag-draped coffin is not as sharp as it was the first time they were faced with it, but when Reverend Weber and Waylon speak about Charlie, both Bella and Peter break down again. Billy speaks as well and despite their rather small family size, there are well over a hundred people at the funeral. Charlie was clearly a part of many families in this town and the collective grief over the loss of him is evident.

Jake, Billy, Peter, Waylon, and two other police officers serve as pallbearers and lead funeral-goers out of church and into the procession to the interment. This is easily the worst part. Bella doesn't stop crying the entire time and at all times she is flanked by at least two people; Peter is a constant at her side apart from when he helps carry the coffin. The moment when I imagine she will be at her worst, when Billy hands her the folded flag from her father's coffin, she goes completely silent. Her head drops down as everyone watches her shoulders shake violently. Again, I feel compelled, almost desperate, to touch her, to physically comfort her in some fashion. I'm standing just behind her and the desire is so strong that I feel a heaviness in my fingertips, as if they are being drawn to her, but before I have a chance, Peter moves to stand in front of her and leans in to whisper to her, his own tears falling steadily, When I scan the faces in the crowd I am not surprised that there's barely a dry eye amongst them. My own heart has never hurt so much, I'm sure, and I'd never even met the man.

After the funeral, we ride in a limo back to the house, close family and friends following. Someone has catered the event; I am not sure how it was arranged but everything is there when we get there and on top of that, lots of people have brought food and drinks.

I hang by Peter most of the time, occasionally getting into conversations with his friends or family members. His ex-girlfriend Lauren has attached herself to his side and I spend a bit of time talking to her. All of his friends from high school who are there seem like nice, down-to-earth people, and all of them are pretty easy to talk to. The reception at the Swan home is just a little more lighthearted than the wake and funeral and it's a small mercy. As with most deaths, the burial marks the final goodbye, and people generally feel some relief after, or at the very least, they cry until they can't anymore and that in and of itself is a relief. However, due to the circumstances around Charlie's death, this gathering is a little more somber than any I've been to before.

I'm half-listening to Lauren talk about how cheerleading is now a bona fide sport when I realize that I haven't seen Bella in a while. I immediately look for Jake because she's been with him for most of the time since we got home, and I spot him sitting on the couch in the family room with a couple of Peter's friends. I excuse myself from Lauren with the excuse that I have to use the bathroom, and I head to the stairs. If Bella is up there, I am not sure she even wants company, but I feel like with so many people in the house, maybe she feels overwhelmed. I feel compelled to check on her since Peter's occupied.

When I reach the top, I scan the hall and notice a teacup on its side and a half-eaten sandwich triangle on the floor. I lean down to pick up the cup and as I do, I see Bella sitting on the floor in the office. The door is open just a crack and all I can really see is her hair. I grab the cup and then walk toward the office. I mean to knock and then forget, but she doesn't startle when she sees me.

"Close the door please," she whispers. She's sitting on her heels and her shoes are on the floor by the couch. Her dress is black and slim-fitting. I noticed it this morning...I can't help but _keep_ noticing it, and the way it fits her. Like her skirt from yesterday, the dress falls just below her knees and hugs her body. It is long-sleeved and the neckline is a wide V that partially exposes her shoulders. She's also wearing black tights, a necessity on this particularly damp and chilly day, and they do nothing to hide her toned legs.

I swallow thickly as I look her over and remind myself once again that this is not the time or the place to eye-fuck her. "Do you want me to leave you alone?"

She looks up at me and her eyes and nose are all red, which only serves to make me feel even guiltier for the vigorous twice-over I just gave her. "No, it's okay, I just want you to close the door. I just don't want to see any of them right now."

I close the door, place the cup on the computer desk, and sit down on the couch across from where she's sitting on the floor. "Is that a photo album?"

"Yeah. It's from before us. My mom was the only one who ever made photo albums. It's not so bad, looking at the pictures from before us."

I want to ask about her mom but I figure it's none of my business and now is not the time.

"She's off in Mexico, or, at least she was last I heard, she and her _Latin lover._" She says it with an accent and I can't help but chuckle. "She probably won't even hear about this for a few weeks. If she tries to get in touch with me or Peter, I'll flip. She will, too. She'll probably want money or something. She'll want to know if she was in the will."

"When did she leave?" I ask. She gets up off the floor and sits down on the couch, at the other end. She hands me the album absentmindedly and I suppose she wants me to look at it.

"When we were little. We were eight. She just disappeared. Well, that's what it seemed liked to us, but probably not to Dad. I think they fought a lot. I think it was kind of a mess. She was always a little loopy."

I flip through the pages and I recognize her instantly - Bella looks just like her. There are lots of candids, shots at parties, on vacations. She definitely looks like a fun lady, but I can't help but hate her a little for leaving her family. I look up to find Bella watching me flip through the book. She stares at me for a moment and then looks down at the album.

"You look like her. Peter looks more like your dad. Except for the eyes. Peter has her blue eyes, and you have your dad's brown ones, huh?" It just comes out, a casual observation as I scan the photos, but the minute I say it, I worry that my comment is insensitive.

It's not the eye color part that she focuses on, though, when she looks up and frowns. "I'm nothing like her."

"I didn't mean...I just mean your looks."

She nods. "I know, sorry, I just...she makes my blood boil a little bit, but not just because she left. It makes me mad that I wish I knew her more. I don't want to wish that."

I nod and continue to flip through the book as she watches me.

"I have a headache." She presses into the corner of her eye against her nose.

"It's from crying, probably. You should drink water. Do you want me to get you a glass?"

She shakes her head. "No, it's all right."

Her expression strikes me: it's sort of distant and distracted, and I feel like I can almost see the cacophony of thoughts bouncing around inside her head. We sit in silence for a few minutes and she doesn't even seem to notice how intently I am watching her. It's probably the first time I've been able to really study her face since we got here. I do notice the subtleties of her beauty, like the faint smattering of freckles across nose, her defined yet feminine jawline, and the attractive arc of her eyebrows; but I can't deny that my eyes spend the most time admiring her lips. I'm not sure if there is a set of standards for a perfect pair of lips, but if there is, I'm fairly certain hers would meet all of them. They're full and soft-looking and she has this perfect little indentation beneath the bottom one. I'm imagining the fun I could have exploring that little nook with my tongue when her eyes re-focus on mine and she speaks again.

"Did you meet Lauren?"

"Peter's ex? Yeah."

"She's been doting on him all day."

I watch her, unsure of what I am supposed to say.

"He's not going to get back together with her. Well, at least I don't think so. He does like being taken care of, though."

"She seems to care about him," I offer. I really don't give a shit about Peter's ex, but I feel like I should contribute to the conversation. I feel like there is something she's not saying.

"Does he ever talk about her?"

"He's mentioned her, in stories and stuff. They went out all through high school, right? And freshman year?"

"Yeah. I think they broke up because of the distance or something. Maybe Peter's planning on moving back or something. Does he say anything about that?"

I shrug. "He's never seemed keen on coming back here, but I'm not sure. We talked about moving to Seattle after college, since we both want to live there."

She slides over one cushion until she's right next to me. She reaches over and turns a few pages to the end of the album. She points to a picture of her mother, father, and another couple on some beach. "That's the Latin lover. Her best friend's husband. Ex-best friend."

I look down at the picture and then back up at her. She's staring as if she's waiting for me to say something. Her eyes move along my face and then she's looking at me but she doesn't appear to be focusing. She reaches up and pushes my hair back. The feel of her fingertips on my scalp sends a shiver down my spine. Her fingers move down to my neck and rest on the collar of my shirt. She looks back at the photo album for a second before she grabs it and throws it on the floor.

She looks back up at me and I'm surprised that her expression seems calm, almost relaxed. As her thumb moves slowly back up my neck, behind my ear and then along the ridge, my heart rate speeds up and I forget how to exhale.

"Jasper," she whispers, a second before she leans closer and presses her mouth against mine.

Before I fully register what is happening, our mouths are wide against each other. She is turned almost fully toward me, her warm hand covering my jaw and her fucking sweet, wet, fucking perfect tongue is moving against mine. I stifle the urge to groan and to bite at it, but I give in to the urge to suck it hard into my mouth. She gasps when I do and I just want to put my hands on her so badly, but I'm afraid I won't be able to control them. I know this is all wrong but I can't seem to pull myself away from her, and she just seems to get closer and closer, deeper and deeper. The kiss is consuming and I am continually fighting the overwhelming desire to push her onto her back on the couch and climb on top of her. I keep one hand on the couch, between us, and tentatively move the other to her hair. As soon as I feel its softness, I shove it to the back of her head and take a fistful. She keeps holding her breath and then exhaling in spurts and for some reason it's driving me fucking nuts. I feel the hem of her dress brush against my hand and the sensation of it goes straight to my dick.

The minute I start to really react, the guilt creeps in. Maybe she wants this, maybe she doesn't, but either way, I can't take advantage of her. The desperation in her kiss should be enough of a warning sign, but it feels so good that I somehow manage to keep ignoring it.

She shifts again and moves toward me, as if she's angling to climb into my lap, and I move my hand from her hair to her shoulder and hold her gently, but firmly, back. She breaks the kiss with a gasp and flashes me a questioning glance.

"Bella, I don't think you want to do this."

She's not looking in my eyes, but at my mouth still. "Don't."

"Don't what? I-"

Her eyes shoot up to meet mine. "Don't treat me like that, please. Not you."

"Treat you like what?" My hand slides down to rub her arm, and I genuinely have no idea what I've done wrong – other than stop her before she does something she'll surely regret. We hardly know each other, and I can't believe she's making sound decisions right now.

"Like you know what's best for me. You don't know, and if you want me to stop, just say it; don't act like it's for my benefit."

My mouth opens in shock, her tone really isn't sharp, but she's clearly displeased. "That's not what I meant."

"Yeah, it is."

"What if I am thinking about what's best for me?" I turn the tables. I want to kiss her and I want to touch her and I probably want to do whatever else she has in mind, but I can't pretend that that's _all _I want, nor can I pretend I won't be fucking disappointed when she regrets acting in the heat of the moment, and when she suddenly changes her mind and decides that I took advantage of her.

She grabs my hand from her arm and holds it out. She twists hers until our fingers are interlaced and then she lowers our hands to my lap. We both look down at our hands and then she quickly leans into me. Her lips ghost along my jaw and my body runs hot and cold at once.

I feel them graze the tip of my earlobe as she moves even closer. "You mean you didn't like it?"

Her seduction is maddening in more ways than one. I want to throw her on the floor and tear her clothes off and I want to tell her to fuck off for trying to manipulate me like this. I pull my hand from hers and reach up to grab her jaw. I push her face back and then turn to face her fully. I am about to explain my line of reasoning when her expression morphs and she grips my hand more tightly.

"Please," she whispers so quietly. "I just need to…please."

I realize this is isn't calculated seduction. Her expression is so self-conscious - and maybe she's doing this for the wrong reasons, maybe she's just trying to forget - but she's making that face and I want it gone and I'll do whatever it takes to get rid of it.

Slowly, I release my grip on her jaw. My hand slides back into her hair and I close my eyes for a second. I'm not really gallant or particularly gentlemanly. I'm a decent guy, and I don't have to try very hard to be, but I want this girl and I'm a man and there's just only so much restraint I can muster, particularly when I'm not meeting any resistance. I won't have her beg, not when I so badly want to give her what she wants, and probably a whole lot more than what she wants. I'm still concerned about her mindset and her motivations, but once I've given in, I almost instantly lose my conviction to my morals, or whatever they are. I tell myself I'll worry later, my thoughts now occupied almost completely by the feeling of her hair between my fingers, the sight of her dress riding up her thighs, and the memory of the taste of her mouth that is fading too rapidly. I push on the back of her head just a bit and she's instantly in my lap.

She tugs her dress up her thighs so that she can straddle mine comfortably, and then ducks her head into my neck. I feel her tongue glide along it to my ear and I'm a lost cause. She moves both hands along my shoulders to the back of my neck and into my hair. She pulls it until my head tilts back and then her lips move along my throat, kissing and biting a path over to my ear again. When she sucks my earlobe between her teeth and bites down, I grab her hips and push her hard into my lap. There's something deeply gratifying about having the subject of your rather frequent erection actually pressing against it for the first time.

I feel the sharp gust of warm breath against my ear before she hisses, "Oh, God, I want you to fuck me." She sounds surprised at her own words.

They are beyond unexpected, and they register with my dick before my brain. When my brain finally catches up, it's not much help because too much of me wants this. I thrust my hips into her again and somewhere in the very back of my mind, there is a voice cautioning me to slow down. I can't do what I want to her, even if she wants it. Not here, not like this, but I'm dying to take her in about a million different ways. Now I am wishing I had kissed her in her room the other day because maybe it would have taken the edge off, dialed down the intensity a bit. Instead, I resisted and now it is taking an active effort for me not to just tear her apart. Her grinding in my lap, gnawing on my ear and sucking at my neck is not helping me at all, but I do nothing but encourage it.

I move one hand to the back of her head and gently rub, gently push, so she knows that I want her to keep doing what she is doing. She runs her tongue along the ridge of my ear before kissing across my jaw and up to my lips where I push open her mouth with mine and seek out the tongue that has been teasing me relentlessly. Her hands grip my shoulders tightly as she rocks her hips against mine, and yet I'm still telling myself that I'm not going to fuck her, even as I start to resent the amount of clothing we both have on. _Just a little more, and then I'll stop, _I keep telling myself. Her fingers dig into my shoulders but instead of anchoring there, she drags them down my chest to the waistband of my pants. I am _still_ telling myself that I'm not going to fuck her when she tugs and pulls blindly at my belt buckle until it's undone.

She gets past the button and zipper quickly and I almost lose it when I feel her hand move over my painfully hard dick. I push it toward her as I squeeze her hips so hard I'm sure I'll bruise her. Her hand slips inside the fly of my boxers and closes over me. I look down and watch as she pulls me out of my boxers and I want her mouth, her hands, her pussy, every inch of her, on me. I give up telling myself I'm not going to fuck her as my hands slide up her thighs, pushing her dress up to her hips and then pulling down the waistband of her tights. Somehow, between the frantic kissing and touching, I manage to get them down to her thighs before we must interrupt what we are doing to get them off the rest of the way. She refuses to remove her mouth from mine at first and when she finally does, she still continues to kiss me wherever she can. I yank and pull at the stupid tights until I get them off one leg and then I just fucking leave them, sliding my hand back up her leg, up her thigh, until I'm touching her wet panties.

My dick twitches in her hand and she sucks in a breath as I push my fingers against her. Part of me can't believe what we're doing here and the rest of me doesn't give a shit. I want to prolong this feeling, I want to tease myself by touching her for an extended period of time over her panties, but I am too impatient and so I push my fingers underneath the elastic that rests on the incredibly soft skin where her thigh meets her pussy. My other hand is on her ass and I quickly stuff it into the back of her panties. Her lips still against mine for a second and she just breathes as I touch her. I move my hand on her ass down between her legs from behind until it meets my other hand and she flinches, bucking against me.

"Jasper..." she whispers, her lips still pressed against mine. My name is different when she says it, like it takes on a whole new meaning. I wait for her to finish her sentence but instead she just stares hard at me, her eyes dark and needy. She gently pushes herself against my hand and I know what she wants. I push my middle finger all the way inside her and all bets are fucking off.

"Fuck," I hiss, far from eloquent, but I am dumbstruck when I feel how wet she is for me. The feel of her, the resistance...there is no way I am stopping before I feel that around my dick. The way she moves her hips against my hand, the way she squeezes me, and the way she kisses me tells me she's on the same page.

She's breathing too hard and making too many noises to keep kissing so she drops her head onto my shoulder and puts more focus into stroking me. Something has to give because I feel like my skin is going to burst into flames. I add a finger and she bites my shoulder and then turns her face into my neck. I turn my face to hers and after a little nudge, she lifts her head a bit and presses her lips to mine. She moves one hand into my hair and it feels like we're both touching everywhere all at once. When her hand abandons my dick a moment later to unbutton my shirt, I'm reminded just how much clothing we both still have on. I pull both my hands from between her legs and she grabs a fistful of my shirt.

"Please don't stop!" she pants, kissing me before I can respond.

I don't want to stop either but I need her clothes to be gone. I reach up and feel for the zipper at the back of her dress. I draw it down and it gets stuck halfway. I fiddle with it for a second before I reach up and grab her hair and gently pull her back.

"Fuck, just stand up for a second, okay?"

She nods and stands up and then I get up and immediately we start to yank at each other's clothes. I get the zipper down and peel the dress off and then groan at the sight of her in just a black strapless bra, tiny black panties and half a pair of tights. I push down the tights and she toes them off, and when she gets my boxers off, I sit down and pull her back into my lap. She leans forward to kiss my chest but I push her back and then run my hands over her. I grip both her breasts firmly before sliding my hand into one of her bra cups. When my fingertips graze over one incredibly hard little nipple, she throws her head back and makes the sexiest sounds. I extract my hand after a moment and reach around with both hands to unclasp her bra. I pull it away from her body and toss it to the floor and then bring my hands back to her chest.

"Fuck, you are beautiful," I whisper, my eyes fixed on her perfect tits. I swipe my thumb over her nipple and then lean forward to kiss it before taking it into my mouth.

She moves both hands to the back of my head and laces her fingers together, pushing me against her chest. I return my hand to its previous location between her thighs and resume touching her. I suck and bite at her chest and I can feel the effect it has on her between her legs. Maybe it's wishful thinking on my part, but it feels like two people have never been so fucking desperate for each other. I'm on the edge now and I am not sure I can wait much longer to be inside her. For a moment, I contemplate how I want her, but I quickly realize it has to happen immediately. I release her nipple and she lets go of my head, and I lean back against the couch and pull her to me.

Her lips brush against mine and I push my fingers back into her. "Bella, _shit_, I want you so badly." The words come out all strained and mumbled. I rub up and down her back and part of me just wants to hold her here, to enjoy just being close to this girl who has captivated me since the moment I saw her.

"Me, too," she whispers and the skin on her thigh prickles as I run my hand over it. I tug at the waistband of her panties with one hand and move the other from between her legs so that I can get them all the way off. I toss them on the couch and take a moment to appreciate her naked body. She makes a sheepish face and looks away as I take her in, and I smirk, because _now _she's suddenly shy? I can't decide where I want to touch her first so I just let my hands move over her, everywhere.

It's ridiculous, what we're doing. Both of us are completely naked and the door is unlocked and everyone she knows, more or less, is downstairs mourning her father. It's ridiculous and yet I feel more and more certain that neither of us has ever wanted or needed anything more. I know for a fact I haven't. But as much as I desperately want to be inside her, I think if she stopped me now I could live with it, as long as she continued to let me hold her close like this, her skin pressed against mine. The connection I feel to her intensifies what we're doing to the point where I am almost completely consumed by the feel of her. I grab her hips and I'm almost inside her when I realize what's missing.

"I need to grab my pants." I'm nearly breathless and I haven't even put my back into it yet. She nods and allows me to help her off my lap and onto the couch cushion next to us. I get up and pick up my pants and she watches me. I stuff my hand in the pocket and find my wallet, and I can feel her eyes burning into me. I glance at the door and notice there's no lock. I hesitate for a moment, but who I am kidding? Rational thought evaporated back when she climbed into my lap. I look back at her and she bites her lip.

"Hurry."

I fish the condom out of my wallet and then I throw the wallet and the foil wrapper on the ground. I roll it on as I walk back toward her, and she watches me intently. My eyes travel over her very naked body and then back to the door. Again, I am briefly tempted to call this off, but I know I can't, not anymore. She must sense my hesitancy though, because she stands up and crosses the short distance between us. I want to read her face but my eyes can't seem to raise themselves above her shoulders. She wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me down until I'm kissing her, and that's pretty much all it takes to get me to stop worrying about the door or anything else.

One of my hands makes its way into her hair, the other down her back to her ass, and then slowly around her hip, up her stomach, and back to her breast. I want to be inside her so badly but I can't seem to stop kissing her long enough to decide how this is going to work. She pulls herself in closer to me and though my dick rubbing against her soft stomach feels pretty fucking good, I decide to correct the misalignment. My hands slide from her tit and her neck, down to the backs of her thighs. She's easy to lift, light and compliant, wrapping her legs tightly around my waist and locking her arms behind my neck.

Now my dick is pressed right against where it needs to be and I decide that all I really need to do, all I can manage, is to walk her back a few steps to the wall by the door. As soon as her back hits the wall, I reach beneath her and feel for where I need to be, and a second later, I push into her. We both gasp and curse and bite at each other. I am sure she must think I'm already coming by the fucking sounds I am making and I am mildly concerned I won't make it past this first stroke. When I am completely inside her, I hold myself against her for a second to adjust. I take a deep breath and try to refocus my attention before pulling all the way out again. I grip her ass and bury my face in her neck, and after a few slow thrusts, I want to speed things up. I readjust my hold on her hip and this time I really drive myself into her. She cries out and I kiss her to stifle her sounds. I feel her fingers weave into my hair and I pick up my pace. I try to focus on her taste so I don't think too much about how she feels around my dick, and surprisingly, it's rather easy to get lost in our kissing.

I move the hand on her hip up to her ribcage and over her breast and again she releases a sharp breath and then swears into my mouth. I pull away and kiss down her neck and collarbone before hoisting her a little bit farther up the wall so that I can take her into my mouth. When I do, she claws at my scalp.

"Yes...ugh...yes..." she encourages me. I feel her hair tickle my face and I know she's looking down, watching me suck her.

I pull away after a moment because even though I love the taste of her skin, I need to feel the wetness of her mouth and I need to fuck her harder. Our mouths meet again as I brace my elbow against the wall and speed up the snapping of my hips.

"Bella, fuck. Do you know how good you feel?" My words are all choppy; it takes massive brainpower to form a sentence.

I pull back just a bit to look at her. Her eyes are closed and her head is back against the wall, hair in her face and bunching behind her head. I lean in again and press my nose into her neck, rubbing it along her soft, damp skin before taking the flesh between my teeth and biting. Her hands fly to my neck.

"Harder," she gasps, digging her fingernails in. I'm pretty sure she's not referring to the biting.

I move the hand on the wall to join the other, beneath her little ass, and they both cover it almost completely. I squeeze hard as I push my hips up and into her. She bites down hard on her lower lip and the sound she makes has me searching my mind for unpleasant thoughts that might help stave off my orgasm. She moans and chants my name but after a bit, it's still not enough.

"Harder. Please, harder." Her voice is high, strained.

I'm fucking sweating with the effort I am putting into it, but I comply. I slide my hands to her thighs and push them back, pinning her to the wall by her bent legs. I thrust as hard and as vigorously as I can manage and now we're both getting too fucking loud. I try to cover her mouth with mine so we can neutralize each other's noises but it doesn't fucking work because every time I try to kiss her, I break away to groan her name or make some other fucking unintelligible noises.

"I'm...fuck, I'm close," she gasps throwing her head back. It hits the wall with a light thud but she doesn't flinch.

Her thighs are clammy and my grip is slipping so I pull her legs back around my waist and this time she starts using the wall as leverage to buck against me. I'm so fucking deep inside her and it's now taking every fiber of my being to stop myself from exploding inside her. I slide my hand from her ass up over her hip and between her legs so I can get her from _close _to _there. _As soon as I press my fingers against her she shrieks and I yank them away and bring my hand up to cover her mouth.

My heart pounds impossibly harder and I worry it might explode before my dick does. "Jesus, you have to be quiet," I whisper, trying not to sound scolding.

I slowly pull my hand back and watch as the color returns to her lips. I want to kiss it off completely. She seems unfazed by my chastising but she thankfully lowers her voice. "Jasper, God, touch me. It feels so good."

I lick my index and middle fingers and move my hand back between her legs. "Like that? That good?"

She sucks air through her teeth and her fingers dig into my shoulder and bicep. "Yes, that's good. I'm going to come, _fuck."_

I move faster, my fingers, my hips, and somehow I manage to hold back long enough to watch, hear, and feel her orgasm tear through her. It's sensory overload and although I could easily come with her right now, I hold off a few more impossible minutes so that I am not so distracted by my own climax that I can't enjoy hers. As she comes down, panting my name and kissing me, her body falls somewhat limp in my arms and I grip her more tightly. She feels a little heavier now but it's no matter because it takes me just a few hard thrusts before I am gasping in her ear and filling the condom.

"Bella, fuck, baby...._Fuck_."

I hold her there, panting into her ear and neck for a few minutes before I slowly lower her. I set her down and she stumbles and grabs my arm. I slip it around her waist and walk her back to the couch. "Come here," I whisper as I pull her onto my lap.

I reach between us and peel the condom off as we alternate between kissing and catching our breath. I reach over the arm of the couch and put the condom on the table next to it before wrapping my arms tightly around her and pulling her closer. Just as I really get into the kissing, into the feeling of holding her naked body close to mine and kneading the damp flesh of her back, she breaks away and gets up to collect her clothes from the floor.

"We should consider ourselves lucky, I think. We really should get dressed now."

Already her expression is unsettling; it's empty or, at best, unreadable. I get up and grab some tissues from the box on the table, and I put the condom in the tissue before dropping it on the table so that I can get dressed.

Once we are both dressed and somewhat presentable, she looks me over and finally she smiles, albeit a little more weakly than I'd prefer. I walk to where she is standing by the door and I want something, _anything _from her. I want her to fix the sinking feeling I have in my chest as reality comes flooding back into my head. I want to not feel like a disgusting pervert for the way I just fucked her, and I want to stop obsessively reminding myself of the occasion. This was the exactly feeling I did not want to have, and yet I am not sure I'd take back any of what we did, even if I could.

She reaches up and touches my face and smiles a little more brightly, but it's not much comfort because the smile doesn't extend to her eyes. "Thanks, Jasper," she whispers, as if I did her some kind of favor. She cranes her neck a bit and I lean down and in to kiss her, but this kiss is decidedly more subdued. She gives my hand a squeeze before pulling away.

"We should go downstairs before someone comes looking," she says, turning the doorknob and stepping forward to create a more platonic distance between us. I reach out to touch her fingertips, feeling for a vestige of that volatile energy that buzzed between us moments ago. She presses back against my fingers and it's still there, for just a second, before she pulls away completely.

* * *

**Legna betaed it all. Next chapter will be up on Wednesday (1/13).**

**For those of you who read Son of a Preacher Man, I've written an AU out-take for Twilighted's Free For All Friday - if you're interested, you can find it here: http://twilighted(dot)net/viewstory(dot)php?sid=4327&chapter=40**


	5. Too Bad About the Fire

**The **_**Twilight**_** series is the property of Stephenie Meyer - No copyright infringement is intended. **

**This entire fic is dedicated to JAustenlover. **

* * *

_**Too Bad About the Fire**_

_**~ * ~**_

_**Jasper Whitlock**_

Bella peeks out to make sure the coast is clear and then heads for the bathroom. She turns before closing the door and nods toward the stairs, implying I should go first.

I toss the tissue with the condom in the trashcan in my room and make a mental note to empty it before I leave. I head downstairs and immediately my face gets hot. I think back to the sounds we were making upstairs and they are amplified in my memory. A few people glance casually at me and I imagine that they've all just heard Bella and me upstairs. Already the memory of it stirs something other than embarrassment inside me.

"Hey, where were you?" Peter's voice comes from behind me. I turn and he holds out a paper plate with a slice of cake on it. "This is good; my great aunt makes it."

I smile and try not to look guilty as I take the plate from Peter. I quickly scan the living room and notice Waylon on the couch with an older gentleman. Both of them wear bloodshot eyes and Waylon is blowing his nose into a handkerchief. "I was upstairs, I went up to go to the bathroom and Bella was in the office. She was a little upset." I figure I should shoot for omission as opposed to outright lying, if I can.

"Oh shit," Peter says and glances toward the hall and the stairs. "Is she all right now?"

"Yeah, she's okay, I think she's just getting washed up." Well, it's technically true.

Peter grabs my shoulder and squeezes firmly. "Thanks, J. You've been awesome today. This whole week."

I try to keep the cringing internal.

We talk and eat cake for a few minutes and then Bella appears in the room. As though she's a sort-of celebrity, all faces turn when the child of the deceased walks into the room. My instinct to protect her, to shield her from the staring and the questioning, has only increased.

Her hair is shiny and smooth, freshly brushed, and her makeup has been retouched. She looks beautiful, but my mind instantly calls forth the image of her wild, tangled hair, a dark contrast against the pale gray wall of the office, and teeth pressing hard into her swollen red lips. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to avoid picturing her like that now that the image is in my mind.

She smiles and chats idly with a few people before Peter calls her over to us. "Bells, you all right?" he asks, rubbing her shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm okay." She glances quickly at me but it's not meaningful, and she barely looks at me as she converses with us. It feels shitty and yet I wonder what I expected. For her to slide her arm around my waist, kiss my cheek and announce to Peter that after some particularly hot sex upstairs we have decided to become an item? The situation just seems more and more ridiculous in my head, and I begin to wonder if I've already sealed my fate with this girl.

But the way she looked at me - the way she kissed me - I still have to believe the draw between us isn't completely imagined. Then again, considering our connection was instantaneous for me, and at the worst possible time for her, I suppose it could be.

Peter has Bella giggling over an impression he's doing of their late grandfather when Jake makes his way over to us.

"Bella," he says when he arrives in front of us. "I brought the Rabbit. You've got to come check it out!"

"You've finished it?" she asks, her eyes lighting up.

"Yeah, just a couple days ago, paint job and everything!" He grabs her hand and tugs her and I feel the jealousy flare hotter than it did the other day. It drives me nuts that there is nothing I can do about it.

"Awesome. Peter, are you going to come look?" she asks.

"Yeah, let's go. C'mon, J."

I want to politely decline but I realize that I would be doing so out of jealousy, and unlike the other day, Bella _will _pick up on it. I grumble a bit but follow Peter, Jake, and Bella outside, the whole time recalling images of our encounter upstairs as if mentally marking my territory. I wonder if Jake has ever made her shudder in his arms like that, if he's ever had to help her walk afterward. I'm not sure I'd ever really want to know the real answer but in my head, it's a resounding _no._

Then again, Jake has probably held her in his arms a whole hell of a lot, he probably knows all her secrets, and she didn't hesitate to run to him today and cry on his shoulder, so maybe I should just shut the fuck up.

We walk outside and down to the end of the lawn, where Jake's car is parked. It's a bright red 1986 VW Rabbit and I'm really struggling to see what the big deal is.

"Looks amazing, Jake!" Bella smiles and grabs his arm. He looks down at her, all smiles.

"Wanna take her for a quick spin? I completely rebuilt the engine - you're not going to believe it." He's already unlocking the door before he gets an answer. She looks at Peter and me and rolls her eyes and laughs, not condescendingly, but more playful, as if she is very used to his eagerness.

"Sure, Jake, show me how she runs."

She climbs into the passenger seat and then he smiles at us before getting in the driver's side. "See you guys in a sec." Apparently, we're not invited to check out the smooth ride of his '86 Volkswagen.

Peter nods and feigns a stern expression. "Drive carefully, pal." He's mostly joking, but I see an inkling of what is probably a change in dynamic between Bella and him. I wonder if he'll want to, or feel the need to, take over as a fatherly figure to Bella – an even fiercer protector than he was when he was just playing the twin brother role. I wonder how she'll respond to it, and it makes me even more nervous about my feelings for her, about what happened upstairs, and about how he'll feel about it all, if this thing ever actually goes somewhere.

Even though I seem to have endless amounts of raw, bubbling hatred for this Jake character, I do find some solace in the fact that Bella seems to treat him very much like a friend. She behaves with Jake very similarly to how she behaves with Peter, and I find that at least a little promising. Then I consider the possibility of Pete becoming the father figure, Jake becoming the brother figure and my chances of getting beaten up increasing two-fold. I almost feel sorry for Bella, and imagine the likelihood of her just telling us all to fuck off.

"Huh, Jake even managed to make an old VW Rabbit look pretty decent. He's pretty good with cars."

I nod. "Seems like it. So, you think they'll ever get together again? Is it just the distance thing?" I make a serious effort to pose the question in a casual tone.

Peter chuckles. "Nah, no way. Jake's always been devoted to Bella, but they're really better off as friends. I think she just loved him so much that she wanted to make it work, back in high school, but she just didn't feel the same way. Dad really wanted it to happen for them, too, and I think that made her try even harder, but eventually she grew up and realized that's not a good enough reason to be with someone. I guess chemistry really matters the most, y'know? Anyway, he's with this girl Leah now - she's an activist. They're an odd couple, too, but they're good for each other."

I feel so relieved that I want to hug Peter, and then hug Jake when he and Bella return from their quick drive. Suddenly, I don't mind the guy so much. I manage to keep my shift in mood in check though, so as not to make myself completely obvious to Pete.

Bella and Jake get out of the car, laughing, and walk back over to us. "We were just talking about the motorcycles," she says to Peter.

"Hey, I think we still have those in the garage. Bells, we should get them out!"

I look back and forth between them and finally Peter explains. "Bella went through an Evel Knievel phase in high school and bought these bikes from a neighbor who was trying to get rid of them. She and Jake fixed them up and then we used to take them and ride them up at La Push, the reservation. She bailed out hard once and broke her arm, and that was the end of the motorcycles for us." He makes a face at Bella and she rolls her eyes.

"You mean for me! I know Dad let you and Embry take them out still."

Peter feigns innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Bella."

Jake laughs when she frowns and smacks Peter on the arm. He smacks her back and then his expression quickly changes. "I guess we need to figure out what to do with all this stuff."

You can almost feel the mood drop. Bella shifts and looks away and then at the ground and I am so close to grabbing her and yanking her over to me, when Jake reaches out and rubs her back. She shakes her head a little and he pulls her closer and wraps his arm around her shoulder and I am back to hating him.

Peter frowns and looks at me and then back to Bella. "Bells, I'm sorry, it's just..." he trails off and when he speaks again, his voice is strained. "It's just so much to think about."

She looks up at him and you can tell her tears are barely contained. She steps away from Jake and wraps her arms around Peter's waist. "I know. It's okay," she whispers against his chest. He drops his head to rest on hers and sighs deeply, likely trying to hold on to his composure.

Jake's wears a sympathetic expression as he watches them for a moment before turning to me and jerking his head toward the house. I nod and follow him, but I now fully intend to try to talk to Bella sometime after everyone clears out. I need things sorted between us for a lot of reasons, but the one nagging me right now is the fact that it's becoming downright torturous not to be able to touch her, to pull her into my arms and comfort her.

~ * ~

Around eight or so, the last of the guests, aside from Waylon and his wife and kids, leave. Lauren stays until the very end, at Peter's side nearly constantly, except for when we were outside with Jake and Bella. When Peter closes the door behind her, he leaves his hand on it for a moment.

"Huh."

"What's up?" I ask.

"Nothing just...huh."

He peeks out the window next to the door and watches Lauren get into her car before he turns and nods toward the kitchen. "Time to clean up, I guess."

Peter's aunt and uncle help clean up the whole place and then Mary Beth gives us some instructions on how to heat the many casseroles that were brought today.

She goes into the family room, where Bella is sitting with their cousins, Meghan and Harry, watching television.

"All right, kids, time to go back to the motel. We'll come back tomorrow." She goes to the hall and calls for Waylon, who's in the living room.

Bella is watching television, absentmindedly braiding Meghan's hair. She turns and smiles at her aunt and then pats her cousin's head. "See ya tomorrow."

Harry turns off his PSP and shoves it in the pocket of his dress pants and they both shuffle to the front door, their mother tossing their coats at them. Once they are gone, Peter grabs a few beers, from a case brought by a guest today, from the fridge and hands one to me. I follow him into the family room and he hands the other to Bella. We sit in relative silence while Pete flips through channels until he lands on the original _The Italian Job._ I continually steal glances at Bella, but she stares intently at the TV, drinking her beer. I am trying to figure out a way to be alone with her for a bit to talk, and am also trying to figure out what I want to say and what exactly my expectations are. Finally, I decide to quit obsessing over it, and I start paying attention to the movie and stop continuously looking over at her.

Halfway through the movie, I realize that I've finished my beer and Bella and Peter probably have, too. I look over to the couch to offer them one and catch Bella looking at me. She turns her head quickly back to the television and stares at it far too intently.

I try to hide the smirk on my face as I stand up. "Another beer?"

"Yeah, definitely," Peter responds, handing me his empty bottle.

Bella turns and looks through me as she flashes a weak smile. "No, thanks."

Any smugness I felt at catching her looking at me is quickly wiped away. She's being fucking weird, and while I suppose I understand why, I am getting impatient to talk to her and understand what's going on in her head.

Shortly after I return with the beer, Bella excuses herself to head upstairs to bed.

"You'll be all right?" Peter asks.

"Yeah, I'm okay," she responds. She gets up and leaves the room quickly, saying goodnight without looking at me as she passes.

There's no way I am going to talk to her tonight. It's not as if I can just suddenly get up and tell Peter I'm heading to bed, and she'll probably be asleep before I can get upstairs. I can't help but feel a little disappointed when I realize that nothing is going to be resolved between us any earlier than tomorrow. I worry that she's thinking I took advantage of her, and I guess on some level I did, though it was never my intention, and I hate the thought of her going to bed thinking all this shit that isn't true. I hate that I really have no idea what she thinks about any of what happened, and that I have to go to sleep with this unsettled feeling.

When the movie ends, I grab our empty beer bottles and toss them in the recycling. Peter remains on the couch, flipping channels, and when I come back into the room, I tell him that I am going to head up to bed.

"Cool," he says. "I think I'm gonna stay up."

"Want me to stay? I could easily drink more beer."

He laughs. "No, it's all right, I'd probably rather just be alone for a bit."

I nod, realizing that Peter has had barely any time to himself since we've been here. I head upstairs and notice that Bella's door is closed but her light is still on. I think about knocking but I'm worried about disturbing her. I have no idea what she is doing, and perhaps she even fell asleep with the light on. I give myself several reasons why I should not disturb her and then head into the guest room. I'm starting to feel like all I've done since I got here is deliberate, second guess myself, and over-analyze.

I take off my pants, dress shirt, and t-shirt, and carefully fold them and put them back in my bag. I pull on a pair of flannel pajama pants and then grab my toothbrush and toothpaste. I open the door to head to the bathroom and find Bella standing in the hall, headed to the bathroom as well.

She's wearing a little pair of gym shorts and an "FHS" t-shirt and I fantasize for several seconds about grabbing her and taking her to bed with me. Her red, puffy eyes pull me out of it pretty fast, though.

I open my mouth to ask her something stupid but she cuts me off. "You can go first, I'll probably take longer."

I reach up to scratch my shoulder and I almost chuckle because I feel very naked, and I realize just how ridiculous that is, considering I was a lot more naked in front of her not too long ago. Context is everything.

"No, you go ahead. I can wait, it's okay."

She sighs. "Jasper, just go first."

She turns to head back into her room and I take a few quick steps and then reach out to grab her arm. "Hey, Bella, listen-"

"Jasper, please." She cuts me off but her voice doesn't hold the tone of annoyance that I might expect, given what she's saying. "I'm exhausted." She still avoids eye contact as much as possible.

My hand loosens on her upper arm and slides to her forearm. I'm not sure why I am still holding her, probably just because I am enjoying the feel of her skin. She stares at my hand for a second and then pulls her arm away.

"I think we should talk." I wonder what the possibility is of her wanting to talk in bed, in my arms. Based on how she's acting right now, I'm thinking slim to none.

"I have been talking to people all day. All week, really. I just want to wash my face, brush my teeth, and go to bed. Please, just go ahead and use the bathroom first."

I stand dumbfounded as she slips back into her room and closes the door. After a moment, I shake my head and walk to the bathroom. When I finish washing up, I flip the light off and stand in the hall for a second, wondering if there is something, _anything_ I can do to fix whatever is happening between Bella and me. I'm fairly certain at this point that anything I try to do is probably going to make things worse, so I decide to cut my losses and go to bed.

As soon as my head hits the pillow, my thoughts start spinning. I think about the day and about what happened in the office, and I realize that I'm starting to get a little pissed. I'm not sure what's going on with Bella, but what I do know is that while we may not have had a lot of time to get to know each other on a personal level, carnally, we're pretty fucking intimately acquainted. I've been_ inside _her, and to me that means I at least deserve to have my existence acknowledged. If all it was in that room was a way for her to distract herself from what was going on, that's fine, I could bring myself to understand and accept that, but at the very least, I deserve to be fucking told. I'm not feeling like a victim; if anything, I am starting to feel more and more like I should have stopped what happened and taken some responsibility since I knew she wasn't in the right state to do so herself, but once again, it really wouldn't hurt for us to just fucking talk about this shit.

The worst part is, all of these feelings are disturbingly familiar and reminiscent of a woman and a relationship I had only recently managed to put behind me. I start to wonder if I ask for this shit, if it's something I'm doing that I don't even realize. Bella seems very different than _her_ in every way possible, but the way she was in the hallway this evening...the brush off felt very familiar.

The more I turn it over in my head, the more I can't shake the thought that she probably just really regrets everything and she probably wishes I would just disappear. I feel like shit, knowing that on top of all the stuff that is happening, my presence is only making things worse for her. The funeral was the big thing, and that is over now, so I start to think that maybe it would be best if I leave. I can't stand the thought that I am making Bella uncomfortable in her own home.

I decide that I'll leave early tomorrow morning. I'll tell Pete that I totally forgot about an exam, and I'll offer to come back and pick him up when he's ready to come back to school. I'm pretty sure he doesn't need me here anymore, and he'll probably be busy doing his Executor duties anyway. As much as I hate how everything has played out, once I've made the decision to leave, I feel a little better knowing that the awkwardness will be over soon, and I manage to fall asleep shortly after.

~ * ~

I wake up and stare at the ceiling for a little while before rolling over to check my phone on the nightstand. It's just after seven and I figure if I leave shortly, I can make it back in time for an "exam" in my 3:00 p.m. Kinesiology class. I lie in bed for a few more minutes, trying to wake up more, and my mind drifts back to thoughts of Bella and yesterday afternoon. I wonder if I'll ever be able to stop thinking about it, or at least if I'll ever be able to _enjoy _those thoughts without feeling guilty.

Realizing I don't have time to take care of what thinking about fucking Bella will do to me, I get out of bed and head to the bathroom to take a shower. When I'm finished in the shower, I pack my bag and then walk back out to the hall. I noticed when I got up that Bella's door was open and I wonder if she's normally an early riser, or if it's just because of the circumstances. I drop my bag by Pete's door and knock quickly before letting myself in. Pete is asleep on his stomach, face down on the pillow and turned just enough to allow him to breathe. I nudge him a bit and eventually he groans and rolls over.

"What, what happened, where's Bella?" he mumbles.

"Everything's fine, Pete, it's just I remembered I have a huge fucking Kinesiology exam today at three."

"Fuck. You didn't even study, though. Are you gonna take it?"

"Yeah, I think I'll be all right but I can't miss it, it's a pretty big percentage of our final grade." It sounds like so much bullshit coming from my mouth that I am afraid he is going to call me on it.

"All right, man, shit, I'm sorry you almost missed your exam." He pulls himself up onto his elbow. "But thanks for coming, you really helped so much, and I never expected you to do this."

He has no idea the ways in which I also made everything infinitely worse. "No problem, Pete. Listen, call me when you want to come back to Olympia and I'll come get you. It's no problem - even on a weekday."

He shakes his head. "Don't worry about it. I...uh...I guess I have a car now - Dad's...so I'll drive that back. Thanks, J, I'll call you when I get back to school."

"Yep. Later, Pete. Hang in...and go back to sleep."

He drops back onto the pillow and I slip out and close the door. I put my bag by the front door and when I walk into the kitchen, I find Bella sitting at the table, staring at a bowl of cereal. She looks up, smiles and shifts in her chair, and then drops her gaze back to the bowl. I go to the fridge and take out a bottle of water. I lean against the stove and stare at her back for a moment. I have this problem in which I can't seem to look at any part of her body without instantly calling forth the image of what it looks like unclothed. Some parts I enjoy imagining more than others, but all of it is pretty damn good. I wonder if she has that problem with me. She's barely looked at me since yesterday, though, so if she does, it can't be much of an issue for her.

I am done trying to get her to talk to me and digging a deeper hole for myself in the process, but I also feel like I can't just leave with everything the way it is between us. I look around and spot a pen and a pad near the phone cradle. I grab it and jot my name and cell number on it.

I walk over to the table and lay the paper next to her bowl.

"I've gotta go. I've got an exam today. You can chuck this if you want to, but if you ever want to talk, or if you need something or whatever..." She stares down at the paper. I shake my head and step back. "Take care, Bella."

I start to walk out of the room and then I turn when she speaks up. She's still staring at the paper. "Thanks, Jasper. Drive safely." She turns away from me and picks up her bowl. I shake my head again and head for the door, suddenly anxious to get in my car and get the fuck out of here.

Just before I open the front door I hear what sounds like a sniffle coming from the kitchen. It fucking hurts my heart, but I've done just about all I can do. I open the door and head out into the freezing northern Washington morning.

* * *

**Thanks so much for the very positive response so far. We've read and appreciated every review, even if we haven't yet had time to reply.**

**Legna betaed it all. Next chapter will be up on Saturday (1/16). **


	6. Blue Skies Bring Tears

**The **_**Twilight **_**series is the property of Stephenie Meyer - No copyright infringement is intended.**

****

This entire fic is dedicated to JAustenlover.

**Just a reminder that Elle is writing Bella's POV and LVP is writing Jasper's.**

**

* * *

**

_**Blue Skies Bring Tears**_

_**~ * ~**_

_**Bella Swan**_

The flight back to school is the worst three hours of my life. I had thought that the flight home after I'd just found out was bad. Trapped, surrounded by people.... All I had wanted to do was cry and see Peter and I couldn't do either.

I realize now that the numbness I felt, the fuzziness around the edges, had been a blessing, because now all I feel is the pain and grief. If I'd thought things would be better after a week, I was wrong. I feel more raw now than I did then, and the worst of it is that I know it's not all because of Dad.

It's been three days and I'm still reeling from the encounter in the office. Encounter... if that's what I can call it. "Quick fuck" seems to better sum it up, but I hesitate to call it just a _fuck_... although that's what it was.

I think.

I'm not sure.

Since the moment I saw Jasper Whitlock in front of our house, I've felt off. Even more off than I had already felt, which was considerably.

Dad was our rock. He'd been the best possible parent he could have been for Peter and me. He'd never missed a soccer game or a science fair, and he even joined the PTA for a year when we were in junior high. Nothing had been easy for him as a single parent, and even though I'd never heard him bad-mouth Mom, I remember enough to know that there are a lot of reasons why we were probably better off with just Dad.

Peter's phone call had come so early Monday morning that I had thought I was having a nightmare. That was until Kate was kneeling over me, asking me what had happened, why I was sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, sobbing.

That phone call had demolished my comfortable existence. I had thought about losing Dad, particularly since a girl at school had unexpectedly lost both of her parents our sophomore year, but I'd never considered it would be – _could be_ – so soon. We're just a few months from graduation. I know how proud Dad had been of us and the fact that we'd be the first Swans to graduate from college, and he'd already had his plane ticket to fly down to L.A. with Peter in May.

When I think about how Dad _was_ proud of us, how that ticket will now go unused, I break down again. I'm stuck between two people because I made my flight reservation on such short notice, and the woman on my left is eyeing me sympathetically. She looks nice and I wave my hand a bit, shaking my head that I'm okay and don't need anything. It's been a week filled with sympathetic and pitying glances, and I can't wait to be in my dorm room, away from all of it.

I had tried to hold it together in the car with Uncle Waylon on the way to Forks because I knew the moment I saw Peter, whatever little bit of control I'd managed to muster since he'd called in the morning was going to shatter around me. I had texted him a couple of times while we were on the road from Seattle and hadn't heard back. With every mile we drove, worry for Peter had compounded my existing anxiety, regardless of how much I tried to force both down.

By the time we reached Forks and pulled up in front of the house, I was done. We had passed the police station on the way to the house, and that alone had increased the tears that had been steadily falling for hours. Before I realized what was happening, and for the second time that day, I found myself on the ground, except it was our uncle and then Peter kneeling over me.

I had expected the sadness and anger I saw on Peter's face. I knew he was going to look tired. I wasn't even surprised that he somehow looked _smaller_ than he did the last time I saw him. But I hadn't anticipated how, sitting in the driveway where Dad had taught us to shoot free throws and make layups, his grief would feed mine, and mine, his.

What was even more surprising than the overwhelming anguish that we fostered in one another was how, for just a second, when I saw the tall blond standing with Uncle Waylon, that anguish had swirled away. It was back a moment later, but I found that every time I looked at Jasper Whitlock over the following days – up until Thursday night – it was as if I was in the eye of a storm: calm and untouched by the maelstrom around me.

As we fly through storm clouds into clear air over California, I wish for that calm, although I know that what happened Thursday after the funeral tainted it. My stomach tightens as I think about how I threw myself at Jasper, basically forced myself on him, and I'm ashamed. I can't decide if it's good or bad that we hadn't talked before he left Friday morning. But I do know that when I think about how I all but ignored him from the moment we walked out of the room – skin sweaty, clothes wrinkled – and recall the look on his face in the hall Thursday night, I can feel more tears stinging my eyes.

On top of that, I am worried about what he'll say to Peter, if he'll tell him, and it _all_ bubbles up again, almost taking me by surprise: sadness, loneliness, apprehension about the future, thoughts about Dad. On the flight back to Forks, I had known Peter was waiting for me on the other end, but now I feel like I'm going back to no one. I love my roommate and friends but it's not the same, they're not _family_, and I ache, pointlessly wishing Peter and I had chosen the same college.

I spend the rest of the flight trying to find something on my iPod with which to distract myself, but nothing works. The grief is consuming; it feels endless.

I text Peter when we touch down at LAX to let him know I'm on the ground. He gets back to me almost right away and his simple, "Love you. Be safe," message has me dragging my hand across my eyes. I wipe my wet fingers on my leg in frustration. I'm just so fucking sick of crying all of the time. It seems impossible that it's only been six days; I can't remember the last time my eyes didn't feel swollen and my nose didn't burn from the constant tears. Today was the first morning I hadn't woken up with drying streaks across my face, but the remnants of a dream that had tugged at me as I awoke, of blond hair and blue eyes, had been just as painful a reminder of the turmoil that currently shrouds my life.

I'm so lost in my own head that I almost miss Kate in baggage claim. Her hand on my arm snaps me out of it.

"Bella, hey." She takes one look at my face and pulls me into a hug. My tote is crushed awkwardly between us but the physical contact feels good, and I close my eyes and hug her back.

We quietly wait for my bag. I can tell Kate wants to talk and make sure I'm okay, but she stands close and silent. I know she'll ask later if I don't volunteer information, but she's never been one to press me into talking if I'm really not in the mood.

Kate and I didn't talk much during the week. A few texts and emails, just so she'd know I was hanging in there, but that was it. I haven't mentioned anything to her about Jasper, but I know I will. I'm just not sure how to broach the subject. _So, my brother brought home his best friend from school, and while all of our family and friends and half the town were downstairs mourning our dad's brutal death, we had sex upstairs. He's a nice guy. You should meet him._

Adding to my existing pile of regrets is the knowledge that Kate would probably actually really like Jasper, even though I barely know him enough to judge, which makes me feel even worse. But Kate's inclination to admire smart, confident guys aside, I'm afraid about how she'll react. When I feel the infernal tears welling up again, I turn my head away. Kate notices, of course, and puts her arm around my shoulder. We stay like that until my blue suitcase appears on the conveyor belt.

Kate grabs it and takes my hand. "Come on, let's get you home."

On the drive to campus, I note that Kate is wearing a red sweater and nicer jewelry than she usually wears, and her blonde hair is twisted in a complicated knot at the base of her neck. The date clicks in my head and I turn to her, embarrassed that I hadn't thought of it before.

"Oh my god, Kate, I didn't even think about Valentine's Day. I'm so sorry. Is Garrett pissed?"

Kate looks at me and rolls her eyes. "Don't be dumb. We just went out to lunch instead of dinner, and I think he was relieved. You know he wanted to go to the game, anyway. But look what he got me!" She holds out her arm to show me a bracelet, and I relax back against the seat, nodding and "mmhmming" while she talks about what I missed while I was gone. I wonder how Peter's doing, if he'll really leave tomorrow like he said he would, or if he'll stay and try to get more done with the house. My mind strays from Peter to Jasper and I wish for the dozenth time that we had met before Monday so I could better interpret what I'm feeling.

Would I still have been as drawn to him? Was it all a product of my grief, of the situation? I doubt I'll ever know.

When we get back to campus, it's quiet. Everyone is either at the game or watching it somewhere, and I'm happy to get to our room without seeing anyone we know.

Kate messes around at her desk while I unpack my small bag. I can feel her watching me as I move around our room and push the dress I wore to the funeral to the far end of the closet.

"Do you need food, Bella?" she asks as I zip my bag and shove it under my bed. Food hasn't crossed my mind since Peter and I sat for a quiet breakfast this morning before he drove me to the airport in Dad's car. _Dad's car_.... It is amazing the number of things that never occurred to us before last Monday. Peter suddenly not needing to save for a car is just one of them. I don't think I could ever drive Dad's car and be composed enough to be safe on the road, but Peter has always been stronger than I am, and I think he'll be okay.

"No, no real appetite," I tell her.

She nods and moves from her desk chair to my bed. She pulls her legs up cross-legged before patting the mattress next to her.

I crawl next to her and flop down on my side, my head on her leg. She tucks her stuffed panda, Gregor, into my arms and pulls my throw blanket over me before she starts to comb her fingers through my hair.

"Tell me whatever you want," she says quietly. "Or nothing. Whatever you're comfortable with." I close my eyes and bury my face in Gregor. Kate's hand feels good in my hair and I rest for a few minutes, letting the stress of travel plus everything else fade away.

When I finally start to speak, I don't talk so much about what happened during the week as how I felt. I finally get to my worries about Peter and how it was both comforting and devastating to have him so closely mirror my emotions.

"When I mentioned it to Jasper and asked him what would happen if Peter got over it but I never did, he said it isn't so much about getting over it as moving on."

"Who's Jasper? Your cousin?"

I flinch. His name had come to me without thought, and I don't know if I'm prepared to tell Kate everything yet.

"Um, no, he's a friend of Peter's from school. He drove Peter home and stayed at the house with us for a few days."

"That was nice of him."

"Yeah," I mumble against her leg. I think about Jasper... about Jasper's mouth on mine and Jasper's hands on my body and how, for thirty minutes on one of the hardest days of my life, he had helped me forget about everything bad that was happening.

"What was that for?" Kate asks.

"What?" I tip my head to look up at her and she looks amused.

"That huge sigh." She pokes my shoulder. "Did someone think Jasper was _hot?"_ She's asking with complete innocence, obviously unaware of the thoughts that were just going through my head, but I'm surprised by the question and something she recognizes crosses my face before I can stop it. "Oh!" she says, grinning. "He_ is _hot, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Hot doesn't begin to cover it, I want to say. _Gorgeous_ is closer to the truth; even Angela thought so. I close my eyes and consider telling her; maybe her reaction won't be what I expect.

But Kate's known me for a long time, ever since we shared a lab table in O-Chem sophomore year, and she knows something's going on. Her hand tightens momentarily on my neck and I remember how Jasper had touched me there before almost kissing me in my bedroom.

"What's up, chica?"

I exhale and steel myself, hoping I'll feel better after I've gotten it out. "I kind of had sex with him."

"What?" Her fingers stop moving through my hair but start again quickly.

"You heard me, Kate." I squeeze my eyes more tightly closed as if that will make this conversation easier.

"How did _that_ happen?"

"It kind of just... did."

"When?" Her voice has taken on a funny tone and I'm afraid to look up.

"On Thursday, at the house...."

"But wasn't Thursday...?"

"Yeah," I whisper.

Kate's hand stops again and I can feel her thigh tense under me. I finally sit up so I can see her face. She's frowning, as I had expected. "Oh, Bella."

The disappointment I had been feeling in myself over the past few days, knowing that Dad would surely not be proud of what I'd done with Jasper, comes rushing to the surface, accompanied by tears. I shift away from Kate and have one foot off the bed before she grabs my arm.

"Hey, don't get upset. I'm not judging, you know me. I'm just...." She cocks her head to the side and looks at me for a minute. I settle back onto the bed, but out of arm's reach. "I... I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? What are you sorry for?"

"That your brother would bring home an asshole who would take advantage of you like that."

I'm off the bed in a heartbeat, stalking to the other the other side of the room before I turn back to Kate. My fingernails dig uncomfortably into my palms.

"That's not what happened, Kate. He did _not _take advantage of me."

"Oh really? You wouldn't call it taking advantage for him to have sex with his friend's sister, who is clearly a grieving mess?"

"No! If anything, _I_ took advantage of _him!"_

"How'd that work?" She crosses her arms over her chest and raises an eyebrow. "What did you do? Climb in his lap and grind on him when he wasn't paying attention?"

I feel my face flush with the irony of how close that is to the truth. I drop my gaze to the ground and bring my hands to my face to rub my eyes before looking back up at her.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Whatever," she scoffs. "Any respectable guy isn't going to let you do something like that, at a time like that, Bella." She holds up a hand when I open my mouth to speak. "I don't care how seductive you were or how horny he was. That's fucked up. I'm sorry."

I want so badly to defend Jasper - and myself - but a little part of me knows that she's right. One of us should have stopped it before it went as far as it did. For Christ's sake, we barely knew each other – _know _each other, since I'd been too... _everything _to talk to him before he'd unexpectedly left.

My shoulders droop and I want to crawl into bed and stay there for the rest of the week. I turn to the window and push aside the shade to look out at the campus. With the light in the room on behind me, I can't see much more than my own reflection, and I let the shade fall back into place.

"Hey, come here."

I hesitate before turning back to Kate. She's holding out Gregor, shaking him at me, and looks apologetic. I return to the bed and sit down next to her, my back against the wall.

"I'm sorry," she says. "That was probably out of line."

"No, you're right. Of course. It's just...." She waits, playing with Gregor's ears while I try to figure out how to articulate what I've been thinking. I steal Gregor and hug him to my chest before continuing. "It's just.... I think it was _more _than that, Katie. I think there was more between us, before it happened. We.... He was easy to talk to... and...." I'm not sure how to say what I feel and I'm doubtful she'll go for it, anyway. I turn to look at her and she looks unconvinced.

"Still, Bella...."

"No, no 'still,'" I say, shaking my head. "It doesn't even matter now. I'll probably never see him again."

"No?"

"No. When would I? I'm leaving in three months. It's not like Peter would come here to visit and bring him, or anything. They're getting ready to graduate, too. I don't even know what his plans are for after school, other than that he _might_ go to Seattle with my brother...." I trail off; how very little I know about Jasper Whitlock is probably as clear to Kate as it is to me. It seems like a minor miracle that I even know his last name. The thought that I want to know more about him depresses me because I know it will never happen.

"You didn't even get his email address or anything before you left?"

"No, I did. He gave me his cell number."

"Did you give him yours?" She looks thoughtful when I shake my head. "Are you going to call him?" Her attention is on her perfect fingernails, but it's far from a casual question.

"Um, no. Probably not." I shrug and push back thoughts of how nice it would be to hear his voice, even if it's only through a phone line.

"That's probably good." Kate smiles and rubs my leg. My heart falls when she agrees with me. I realize that I was hoping she would hear that I thought there was more and encourage me to go for it, or at least to call him.... But that's silly and I'm disappointed with myself. Again.

"Did you tell Peter?"

I pull up my knees and bury my face in them. "No."

"Going to?"

"I don't know."

"Think Jasper will?"

I lift my shoulders in uncertainty. I try to put myself in Peter's place and I'm pretty sure he won't be thrilled, regardless of whether it's Jasper or I who tell him. If I had brought home a single Kate with me and the same thing had happened with her and Peter... I would have assumed that Peter had sex with her just to forget what was going on, and I wouldn't have been terribly happy about it.

Even if there _was _something more with Jasper, there's no way Jasper will believe I did it for any other reason than just to escape. It makes me sad to think that he must assume I used him. And that girl who attacked him... she looked like Bella Swan but she wasn't me, not really. What if _she _was the one he liked? I consider that maybe his preference is aggressive and dirty-mouthed, even though I feel as if there's a lot more to him than that.

"Hey, enough of this for now." Kate puts her arm around my shoulders and squeezes. "But you can talk to me whenever you want, even about Jasper. I promise I won't go all judgmental again, okay?" She climbs off the bed after I nod.

Kate checks on the game and finds it ended twenty minutes ago, but refuses to leave until I assure her I'm okay. After she goes off to find Garrett, I slowly change into my pajamas. I send my brother a text as I'm brushing my teeth and he responds as I'm climbing under the covers.

I lie in bed but can't stop thinking about Dad and Peter and Jasper, and I'm wide awake when Kate and Garrett return a few hours later. I listen to them whispering and laughing quietly as I face the wall and pretend I'm asleep, hugging Gregor tightly to me.

Even when Garrett's muffled snores start to fill the air, my mind is a chaotic mess. I don't know how long it will be before I can sleep soundly again, but I have to hope it's not too long.

~ * ~

I spend the week trying to readjust to being back to school. I wasn't even gone for a full seven days, yet it feels like it was months, and I can't quite get into a rhythm. I had forgotten about an exam we're having in Genomics but Professor Andress heard from Kate about my dad and allows me to reschedule it for next week.

On Wednesday, Peter sends me a link to an online newspaper article in the _Sequim and Port Angeles News Online_. _Local Police Chief Laid to Rest, _the headline reads.

Over three hundred people have left comments about Dad, but it's not the nice words that catch my attention or speed up my breathing. It's the photo that accompanies the article.

It is from the interment at the cemetery. Reverend Weber is standing at the head of the casket, his hands clasped in front of him.

The photographer was somewhere to my left, past the foot of the casket, as I am in the forefront of the photo. My eyes are closed and Peter is partially visible on my far side, his arm around my back, his fingers visibly digging into the arm of my coat.

Billy is standing in front of me in his blue uniform, holding out the triangle-shaped bundle of red, white, and blue fabric for me to take.

I ignore the slump of my posture and the way my arms are curled to my chest as if rejecting the flag will make it all not real. I focus instead on the person standing behind me. The person who is reaching out a hand, almost touching my shoulder.

Jasper's eyes are trained on me. The tips of his fingers are just inches from my back. The day had been windy and his hair is blowing everywhere, but I can see half of his face clearly.

I can't name the expression that lines his strong features, but it's not the grief or sadness evident on the faces around us. It's something else. Something that has pulled down the corner of his mouth and creased his forehead. The image captivates me and I wonder what he was thinking in that moment that he reached out. And did Peter notice Jasper's hand when he looked at the photo?

I bookmark the article so I can come back later to read the comments, and save the photo to my laptop's hard drive. I tell myself it's only because I want to make sure I have it in case the website deletes or moves the article, but I know that's not the case.

Something akin to embarrassment still tightens my chest when I think about what we did, although I can't deny the memories are always accompanied, even preceded, by a cascading heat that starts in my stomach and radiates outward. It's the only photo I may ever have of Jasper, and whether or not I will ever be able to think about what happened without the residual guilt I currently feel doesn't seem to matter; I want the photo, regardless. I'm happy to discover that looking at it brings back a fraction of the calm he had been able to create in me in person. That alone is reason enough to keep it.

~ * ~

The rest of the week is a struggle. I've been talking to Peter daily since I returned, and Jake - with whom I ordinarily talk every couple of weeks - has been calling every couple of days. Talking to them helps somewhat, but it doesn't stop every other thing I see from reminding me of something Dad said or did. Friday afternoon, I'm completely drained from classes and sleeping poorly all week, and I manage to sleep from Friday afternoon to late Saturday morning, although I don't feel particularly rejuvenated when I awake.

Saturday and Sunday crawl like the week did and I've never been so happy for a weekend to end. The downtime I have Sunday isn't the blessing I anticipated. Instead of resting and relaxing, I can't shake the sadness that surrounds me, and I lie in bed, doing everything I can not to grimace at Kate and Garrett when they hold hands while they're studying, or when they snuggle on Kate's bed.

In the early evening, they pack up their books and Kate grabs a bag. "I'm staying at the frat house tonight. Do you need anything before I go?"

I kick off the blanket before stretching and throwing my legs over the side of my bed. Kate looks surprised, probably because it's the first time I've moved in about six hours.

"No. I think I'll go grab some food and then watch _Cold Case _or something."

She embraces me tightly and says quietly in my ear, "It'll get better, Bella, I promise."

I'm not sure exactly _what_ will get better, but I nod. It doesn't really matter to what she's referring – at this point, I feel like there isn't anything that can get any worse, including my own attitude. I know it's only been a couple of weeks since Dad died, but I'm really tired of feeling like shit.

A sub sandwich and three hours of TV later, plus some studying for my make-up test, and I feel better than I have all week. That is until I'm clicking around my laptop, looking for a study guide I know I put together for one of my classes, and come across the photo I saved from the online newspaper.

I can't stop my hand from rising up and tracing Jasper's image with my fingertip. He looks so... well, whatever it is, it's not happy. I think back to the week at home and realize I can only come up with a handful of instances when I remember him smiling. That makes me sad because what I did see of his smile made me feel lighter and freer, as did just being in his presence, and not just in the context of what happened after the funeral.

Before I know it, I have my cell phone in my hand and I'm scrolling through my contact list. Garrett... Gretchen... Jake... Jasper. I had saved his number in my phone after he left it for me, even though I hadn't been sure I'd ever use it.

The "call" button taunts me for a minute before I close the phone and put it down. Ten seconds later, I pick it up again and pull up Jasper's number, which has an area code I don't know.

What could it hurt, calling him? It's fair to want to make sure he got back to school safely. I also want to thank him for everything he did for us while he was in Forks. He'd missed an entire week of classes to attend a funeral for someone he didn't even know. It's admirable that he stayed with us for so long and helped with as much as he did.

I try not to think about the keen embarrassment I still feel or how Jasper might be upset with me for refusing to speak to him Thursday night.

He doesn't know that by the time I'd convinced myself to talk to him – that he wouldn't make me feel ashamed for what had happened – and I had run out the front door after him, that his car had been nothing but fading tail lights in the drizzling morning fog.

Maybe I can explain this to him and he won't be angry.

I press the green button before I can think better of it and quickly hold the phone to my ear.

Panic sets in before the end of the first ring. I get up to pace the room as all of the rational thoughts I had flee. What had I planned to say to him? During the interminable pause between the second and third rings, I consider hanging up. It crosses my mind just before I close the phone that he might see his call log sometime when Peter is around and wonder aloud about the number. That alone keeps me from snapping the phone shut. I'm torn between hoping he answers and praying he doesn't, when the fourth ring is cut off by a voice.

"_Yeah?"_ He sounds sleepy and the clock next to my bed comes into focus as I realize it's after midnight on a Sunday; he probably has class in the morning.

My heart trips and my fingers tighten around the phone, but when I open my mouth to speak, nothing comes out.

There's a pause and a, _"Hello?"_ and then a longer pause before he speaks for a third time, sounding more alert.

"_Bella?"_

_

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**Legna betaed it all. The next chapter will be up on Wednesday (1/20).**


	7. Blank Page

**The **_**Twilight **_**series is the property of Stephenie Meyer - No copyright infringement is intended.**

**This entire fic is dedicated to JAustenlover.**

* * *

_**Blank Page **_

_**~ * ~**_

_**Bella Swan**_

"_Bella?"_

He says my name and I'm frozen, unsure what to say. I'm ready to close my phone, even though I know I'll never be able to call him again because I will be too humiliated from the fuck-up that was dialing his number a minute ago, when he speaks again.

"_If it's you, don't hang up, okay?"_ There's a pause, maybe while he waits to see what I'll do, and then he continues.

"_I've been thinking about you."_ He's quiet, tentative, not sure and confident as I've been remembering him since he left our house._ "Wondering how you're doing. Are you okay?"_

I bite my tongue to keep from answering. I want to tell him that I've been thinking about him, too. The sound of him speaking, concentrated, directed just at me, floods me with memories. Blood rushes to my face as I remember the last time I saw him, the last time I was able to really look at him.

"_That's probably a stupid question. I'm sorry." _The line is quiet again. I start to wonder if this is going to turn into the two of us sitting here, saying nothing in uncomfortable silence, since I am apparently incapable of speech. I'm not sure what would be worse – the dead air or if he brings up what happened with us, which I figure he'll do any minute. My fingers itch to hit the power button on my phone but I can't bring myself to do it. Now that I've heard his voice again, I can't abandon it, and he doesn't seem to want me to.

"_I... when I was thinking about you I realized I don't know very much about you past the basics, and you don't know very much about me. So, uh..."_ He pauses and takes an audible deep breath. _"So, my dad's military. We moved around a lot when I was growing up but we've been in Texas for the last seven years or so, at Fort Hood. That's outside of Killeen, which isn't too far from Austin."_ He stops and clears his throat. My anxious pacing has brought me to the other side of the room and I flip off the overhead lights.

In the dark, I can focus solely on Jasper's voice, coming to me from a thousand miles away. I try not to think about him saying my name and how it had sounded when he'd breathed it against me as he'd held me against the wall. He continues talking as I settle on my bed.

"_I have a younger sister, Lucy. She really hated when we moved and would always run away from home right before we were supposed to leave. Everyone panicked the first couple of times, but she'd always go to the same place – the nearest swing set, it didn't matter whose yard it was in – so she was easy to find. The last time she did it, we piled into the minivan without her and drove by the playground where she was hunkered down. We parked around the corner and waited, and she came running down the street, crying, about a minute later." _He laughs quietly and I smile involuntarily as some of my tension dissipates. His voice might be soothing, but his laugh is thrilling. I'm happy that he's starting to sound more as I recalled than he did a few minutes ago.

"_I decided on Washington for school because I figured it would be the easiest way to try a new place all on my own, and I heard it was beautiful up here. I don't love the constant rain, but it's not as bad as some people say...."_

He's settled into a rhythm and I am nestling further against my pillows, surprised about how well this "conversation" seems to be going, when I hear a key in the door. I sit up, surprised, wondering why Kate is home, then realize it won't be any fun to explain to her why I'm on the phone in the dark; her disapproving look will certainly kill whatever small amount of peace I'm feeling from listening to Jasper.

I hate to do it but I can't just hang up while he's talking. Remaining silent is one thing, hanging up mid-word is another.

"Jasper." He falls silent immediately. "I have to go," I whisper. "I'm sorry."

I close my phone without waiting for a response and am standing next to the bed by the time Kate and Garrett come through the door.

"Oh, sorry, Bella! Did we wake you?" Kate asks as she takes in the dark room and my non-pajama attire.

"No, I just fell asleep reading." It's a pretty lame excuse but Kate smiles and nods before I step into the bathroom we share with our suite-mates.

When I emerge and get into bed for the night, I'm happy to find the sight of Kate and Garrett spooning on Kate's bed doesn't make me feel as lousy as it did earlier.

As I start to drift off, it occurs to me that Jasper hadn't mentioned anything about what happened in the office – not even a hint about it. I try not to over-analyze that as I almost-smile at the ceiling until I drift off.

For the first time in fourteen days, I sleep all the way through the night.

~ * ~

Monday night, rest comes just as easily and I'm relieved and hopeful that maybe things are starting to get better. But on Tuesday, the heavy, bleak blanket is back and even a long phone call with Peter doesn't help. In fact, given the nightmare I have just before waking Wednesday morning – in which Billy makes another early-morning phone call, except it's to _me_ about _Peter_ – I think it makes things worse.

I am at the science library Thursday evening, trying desperately to pull together notes for a Genomics paper, when I have the overwhelming urge to call Jasper again. Now that he has my number, I have been half-expecting him to call, but his Texas area code hasn't popped up all week. I push back the thought because, really, no good can come from talking to him again. I still don't know what I would even say and I can't imagine he would be patient enough to deal with another one-sided conversation. Unfortunately, more than once since Sunday night, I've found myself spacing out and thinking about him and the sexy, even cadence of his voice.

"Bella?"

My knee slams against the underside of the table as I jerk back to reality. Mrs. Cope, the librarian, is standing in front of my table.

"Are you okay, dear? The library is closing in a few minutes and I don't want you to be trapped here all night." She smiles at me but looks a little worried, and I wonder how many times she said my name before I heard her.

"Yes, I'm okay." I start to gather my books and papers, stunned that it's already almost ten; the last time I looked at my phone, it was just after 8:30.

The temperature is unusually cool for a February night in L.A. My thin track pants and short-sleeved hoodie don't provide much warmth and I'm shivering by the time I get back to the room. Kate is nowhere to be seen and her laptop is missing from her desk, so I assume she's at Garrett's.

I climb into bed without changing and huddle under the covers. Lying in the dark in the silent room, all I can think about is Dad and how he would have shaken his head at me for wearing flip-flops in February. I had tried to explain to him a dozen times that I had to take advantage of the weather down here while I could. While growing up in dreary and drenched Forks, I'd so rarely been able to break out shorts and sandals and tank tops, but living in L.A., I can do those things pretty much anytime I want, and will, regardless of forecasts. I remember how Dad had actually put together a care package of cold medicine and Kleenex my freshman year when I'd gotten sick in the middle of the winter because I'd been waltzing around wearing inappropriate clothes for a month. He had included a silly card that I still had tucked into a drawer somewhere.

This time my decision to call Jasper is much less impulsive. I roll onto my back and wipe away my tears with one hand while pulling up his number with the other. I stare at his name for a few minutes, waiting for some sort of panic to overtake me. When it comes, it's not as strong as it was last time, and it is eclipsed by the desire to hear his voice, the need for the mental serenity I know he can bring.

It's like I am seeking him out as I found myself doing in Forks. He didn't seem to mind then, and I hope he doesn't now.

As the phone rings, a quick succession of worries runs through my head. Maybe he won't want to talk to me again. He might be busy or unable to answer. The worst is that he could be hanging out with my brother.

He picks up on the second ring, sounding a little breathless.

"_Hey, Bella."_

Again I can't find words that I want to say, and I close my eyes, waiting for him.

Jasper doesn't seem to miss a beat and quickly continues. _"I'm glad you called back. I didn't know if you would. Pete mentioned that he talked to you a couple of days ago and you were pretty upset.... I was worried."_

He sounds genuine and I again regret how I had shut him out at the house. Maybe if I'd just given him a chance to talk to me, the whole thing could have ended... or continued... with much less confusion and guilt.

_"I'll admit I was kind of hoping for some input this time...."_ His tone is lighter as he teases. I'm starting to forget why I was silent in the first place, but just thinking about it brings forth thoughts of Dad, and the misery, which has been hovering just out of sight, rolls over me in a long, slow wave.

I curl my knees to my chest and shut my eyes, willing the feelings not to become overwhelming. The tears had paused for a moment but are back. I move the phone a bit away from my mouth so Jasper can't hear me crying. Between my nutcase behavior in Forks and my silent phone calls, I'm sure he thinks I'm completely weird. Regardless, I don't want him to think I'm calling for sympathy or pity, because I'm not. I'm not sure I can give a logical explanation for why I made this second call, but it's not because I want someone to feel bad for me.

_"It's okay, I'll wait until you're ready, Bella."_

I slowly inhale an unsteady breath. If I ever do say actual words to him, my thanks will be one of the first things I express.

Tonight, Jasper talks to me about what he does with his friends and his free time. I'm not too surprised to find out that some of his tastes are similar to mine. It is reassuring to hear that we actually have things in common aside from a history that is at least one person deep of hooking up with semi-random people. It makes the pull I felt – and still feel – to him a little less confusing.

I laugh to myself when he says that he never told his mom that he first looked at schools in the Pacific Northwest because of the great music that had originated from the region.

"_It sounded like a dumb reason to pick a college, but it seems to have worked out okay," _he adds.

When he talks about wanting to attend a massive, four-day music festival over toward the East Coast, my mind tumbles together images of spending two weeks in close proximity to Jasper Whitlock, seeing the country and listening to amazing music.

Jasper mentions that my brother got him started playing indoor soccer last winter, and this year, he's captain of their semi-informal team. Captain seems like a perfect role for him. From what I had observed of him at the house, he had a constant air of cool and calm about him. It wasn't as if he knew Dad, but there was no way he could have been unaffected by everything that had been going on around him in Forks. Yet, aside from just two times, he hadn't appeared anything but absolutely sure and collected. And those two times – at the funeral and then in the office with me, when he had been anything _but_ cool or calm – fell under the header of "extenuating circumstances." I picture Jasper as the guy to whom everyone turns in an emergency; the guy who effortlessly takes everything in stride and gets shit done. Maybe that is part of why I had felt such a natural draw to him all that week.

And maybe that is why he doesn't sound the least bit exasperated to be spilling his life story to a girl he barely knows, who won't even talk to him.

Several times, I find myself on the brink of asking him questions, of asking for more information. I want to know if he was reading Vonnegut while he was in Forks because he wanted to or if it was for a class. He mentions he just saw _Burn After Reading _and I'm curious if he likes _Fargo_, or maybe _No Country_, better. If I call him again, or if he calls me, I will have to get over the chickenshit thing I am doing right now.

As I listen to him, I think about how much lower turnover would have been in Microbiology if he had been the one at the front at the front of the lecture hall. I'm convinced he could discuss the most mundane topic and still hold an entire audience's attention.

Somewhere around a funny recount of a hockey game he had gone to last year with one of his friends, it dawns on me that I am no longer associating every word he says, every noise he makes, with thoughts of him naked. I'm just listening to _him_, hearing _him_, not just the echoes of memories.

After about a half hour, he pauses for an extra-long moment. When he speaks, his words are surprisingly disappointing. _"I hate to do this, but I have to go."_

I sit up quickly, almost as if I'm physically reaching out to stop him. My heart pounds a little harder and I want to ask him to stay on the phone with me, but since I won't even speak to him at all, I certainly can't do that.

"_I'll talk to you soon?"_

I nod in the dark, already knowing I'll call him again, sometime.

"_Okay, bye, Bella."_

There's a pause and before it goes on for too long, I whisper, "Good night, Jasper."

I hear him breathe out and then, with a smile obvious in his voice, _"Good night, Bella."_

During our conversation, my tears had dried up. Instead of feeling cold and alone, I'm now cozy and comfortable in a cocoon of Jasper's words. It isn't until the next morning, when Kate says she's surprised I was asleep when they got back, that I realize I had never even brushed my teeth or taken off my bra before I fell asleep.

~ * ~

"You sure you don't want to grab dinner with us?" Kate is shouldering her bag while Garrett cleans up the rest of the mess on our lab table.

"No, thanks. I'm just going to head back, get a start on some reading I have to do."

"Want us to bring you anything?"

"No, I'm good." I finish zipping my books into my bag and stand with Kate to wait for Garrett.

Kate frowns and pokes my side.

"What the hell was that?" I rub my ribs where her nail dug into me.

"You haven't been eating. You're too skinny."

"Too skinny? I thought that was impossible for women?" Garrett asks as he joins us. Kate narrows her eyes at him and he gives her a kiss before we start up the steps to the outside world.

I shrug, not really wanting to get into it. My appetite hasn't been what I'd call _hearty_ lately, but I don't think it's to the point where I've lost much weight.

"We're bringing you something whether you like it or not. We'll be there in a bit." I don't bother to argue; once Kate's on a mission, she's impossible to stop. We wave as our paths diverge, and I continue walking toward our dorm.

My phone vibrates in my pocket a few minutes later. I am a little disappointed - and then I'm annoyed with myself - when I look at the display and it's Peter. We exchange "hellos" and "how-are-yous" and give updates on our weeks. I realize part of the way into our relaxed conversation that I used the wrong formula on something during the lab I'd just worked on with Kate and Garrett and am distracted until Peter says something that catches my attention.

"What was that, Peter?"

_"I said that Lauren says hi."_

"Lauren?" I smile my thanks to the guy who holds open the dorm door for me and start up the stairs as I wait for Peter's response. To my knowledge, before the funeral he hadn't spoken to her in quite awhile.

_"Yeah.... We've been emailing and stuff. There's a party here on Saturday and she's going to come down to go to it and then stay with me for the weekend."_ He's using that tone of voice he always used whenever he was trying to get something past our parents. It's the "if I say it really casually, like it's no big deal, maybe no one will notice" tone. It always worked on Mom, but never on Dad, and never on me.

"A party?" I realize I sound like a parrot but I know how Peter works. The shorter my questions, the more likely he is to spill way more than he intended.

_"Yeah, here in the dorm. Our RA is off visiting his girlfriend in China or something so we have the run of the floor. A bunch of the guys' birthdays are this month, so we're throwing a massive early St. Patrick's Day shindig."_

"Sounds classy, Peter." He snorts in agreement. Since I'm sure the point of his call is to mention the Lauren thing, I get right to it. "Lauren, huh? What's going on there? I thought you two determined it would never work out?"

_"I don't know. It wasn't so much about 'never' as it was about right then. She was so great the day of... the day of the funeral. We kind of reconnected and thought we'd see each other and maybe see where things go."_

I try to smile to myself as I let myself into my room. I've never been Lauren's biggest fan, but she was always good to my brother. If things worked out between them, I'll be happy for him, even as the selfish thought starts to nag at me that in just a few months, Peter will be here, on this side of the country, with a girlfriend and all of his friends, while I am setting out on my own on the other side of the country. I know it's uncharitable and petty to think that, and I try to forget it had ever crossed my mind.

"That's great, Peter. I hope things go well." I flop down on my bed and start to think about how to fix the assignment I just messed up.

_"Thanks, Bells. Hey, speaking of birthdays, Jasper asked the other day about how you're doing."_

I tense slightly, wondering if Jasper told Peter what a creepy stalker his sister is - calling and not talking, not just once, but _twice_ - but Peter sounds nonchalant for real this time. "That was nice of him. How is he? And what's that have to do with birthdays?"

_"His birthday is today, actually. __Last I saw him, he was headed to a bar with some of the guys."_

Jasper hadn't said anything about his birthday when I'd called last week - now almost a week ago - but he doesn't seem like that kind of guy who would, so I'm not surprised. "Tell him happy birthday for me, will you?"

He agrees and I'm pleased I was able to pull off those couple of dozen words without blurting out anything about my goofy phone calls or Jasper in general.

We chat for a couple more minutes before Peter says he has go do a couple of things so that he can meet his friends at the bar. I close my phone and sit up slowly.

My heart is racing and has been since Peter said, "Jasper." I don't think it's fear that Peter would find out about my phone calls, because the pounding is only increasing, not abating. I take a couple of deep breaths and try to decide if this is a great opportunity to call Jasper under semi-normal circumstances, or a terrible idea.

His number is on the first page of my call log. Peter said he was out, so he probably won't even answer. I realize that calling him when he's busy is almost as cowardly as calling with no plan to talk, but I consider it a baby step. Maybe the next time I call, I'll do it with the intent of actually speaking with him.

I grumble at myself and my inanity as I push the "call" button. I quickly rehearse a "hi, happy birthday" message in my head while I wait for Jasper's recorded voice to tell me to leave a message.

To my surprise, the voice that answers is not recorded but live. Over the sound of a noisy background comes a surprised, _"Bella?" _

I'm as surprised as he is and react more out of instinct than anything else, my mouth opening before I have a chance to second-guess myself. "Jasper. Hi."

_"Hey, hang on a second?"_ The volume of the background diminishes and is then gone. _"Okay, just had to get somewhere quieter."_

"I'm sorry to pull you away from your friends," I murmur.

_"It's no problem. You're not. They'll wait. How are you?" _

I can feel myself smile as it registers that the seemingly unflappable Jasper Whitlock is almost _rambling_. Hearing that he's nervous helps loosen some of my own tension and my heart rate finally starts to decrease. Before too much time can go by and he starts to worry that this will be another one-sided chat, I remember my reason for calling.

"I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday. Peter said it's today?"

_"Yeah, the big two-two. Thanks."_

"Are you having fun?"

_"Well, there's beer and wings, and hockey on in the bar, so it's not bad...." _In a quieter voice he adds, _"It's really good to hear from you. That's probably weird."_

"No. It's... I'm glad I called."

_"Me, too."_

Unexpectedly, I find myself wanting to tell him all sorts of things and ask him questions, but I know his friends are waiting. "I should let you go so you can get back to everyone."

_"No, Bella-"_

"I don't want to keep you. I just wanted to say happy birthday."

_"Hey. So, it's my birthday, right?"_

"That's the rumor...." I lie back against my comforter.

_"Do I get a wish?"_

"I don't know, did you blow out all of your candles?" I chuckle at the thought of Jasper in a goofy party hat.

_"I did, in fact. My wish?"_

"Sure. I'm not sure what I can give you from down here, but I'll see if I can dig out my magic wand."

_"Tell me something about you."_

His request is so simple it catches me off guard. "Um...."

_"Come on, Bella. You listened to me ramble for two nights. Give me something."_

Moments ago, I had a whole list of things I wanted to say to him, but now I can't think of a single one. I've never loved talking about myself and even though Jasper _did _spend two entire conversations doing just that, I'm still uncomfortable. I take a deep breath and try to man-up.

"Okay, well, what would you like to know? It's your birthday, you pick."

He's quiet for a moment. _"Well, how about what you're doing after graduation? I don't have any idea."_

"Oh," I say, hesitating just a little bit. That one percent of my brain - or maybe my heart - that I do my best to ignore, that wants me to think about Jasper as potentially more than just a friend, twinges. It really doesn't want me to tell him. The other ninety-nine percent wins out. "I'm going to be doing a one-year fellowship at the National Institutes of Health, and I'm starting grad school after that."

_"That's out east somewhere, right?"_

"Yeah, NIH is in Maryland. Grad school is Georgetown."

He pauses for a second too long and I try to discount what I think I hear in his voice, because it's impossible and fucking ridiculous. _"Really? Georgetown, huh? That's awesome."_

"I've wanted to go there ever since I was little. I initially thought it might be for law, though, but I changed my mind back in high school when the sciences were more interesting."

_"They have a lot of great sports programs out that way."_ When he doesn't elaborate, I'm desperate to know what he's thinking, what's going on in his head.

"There's all sorts of sports stuff in DC. Basketball, hockey, football, baseball, soccer. I think it's one of the few cities that has all of the major professional sports." I smile a little at how Dad and Peter would be proud of me for recalling that.

_"Yeah, it is. D.C. is great. There would be a lot of opportunity in a city like that for someone with a Sports Management degree. You're going to love it."_

"I hope so. It's a three-year commitment, at least, so I'm in pretty big trouble if I don't." I try to keep my tone light, but I don't know if it works. I flash back to Peter's potentially renewed relationship with Lauren and feel a little bit of heaviness tug at my heart. "Anyway, now you really need to go before they hunt you down and make you do shots in the parking lot."

_"You have no idea how high the chances are of that actually happening,"_ he says, chuckling. _"Thanks for calling, Bella. It was the highlight of my day."_

"Well, here's hoping your birthday gets better than that."

_"Seems unlikely,"_ he says. My body's physical reaction to his words is instantaneous: my heart thuds irregularly because I can't tell if he was joking or not, and my skin prickles with a now somewhat-familiar shiver that I am coming to associate with Jasper.

"Have a good night, Jasper."

_"You, too, Bella. Thanks again."_

"You're welcome."

We leave it at that. I curl up on top of the covers to think. I want to read more into what he said about D.C. but I refuse to let myself go there. He doesn't even _know_ me. I push away that shred of disappointment I know I heard and focus on congratulating myself for being enough of an adult to conduct a semi-intelligent conversation with the guy who is, I realize, slowly taking over all of my thoughts.

_~ * ~_

A week and a half later, we're up to conversation number five. With my speaking block gone, calling him the fourth time was easy. And this time, it's almost as if I've been doing it forever.

We're twenty minutes in and I'm tucked into bed when I slip and mention something about which I've been thinking. A lot.

"What does your tattoo say?" _The one I saw when you were naked,_ my lips almost let slip.

"_My tattoo?"_

"Only if you want to tell me, though."

"_No, of course, I just... never mind." _I wonder if he has just remembered why I know about the words on his back. "_'I know I was born, I know that I'll die, the in between is mine.'"_

"Pearl Jam," I say, recognizing the "I Am Mine" lyrics. He had mentioned his love for Pearl Jam in passing, but this explains why he had come into my room when I'd been playing _Vitalogy _in Forks. I hadn't known if he'd used it as an excuse just to talk to me and even with all of the talking we've done since then, I'm a little disappointed that it maybe _was_ just the music that brought him to my room. But the way he had looked at me and how he had leaned closer.... I brush it off, as I've already brushed off what happened between us. I know he had wanted me, but he's a _guy_- The train of thought isn't doing me any good so I stop it down, refusing to ruin this conversation by thinking about things that can't be changed.

"_Yeah. And right above that-"_

"Wait, there's more?"

"_On my neck. I guess my hair was covering it. I probably need to get it cut...."_

"Don't do that, I love your hair," I say absently as I think about Jasper walking away from me in the office and how the tattoo had flexed with the movement of his arms. I wish we'd had time for me to get a good look at words, to see the mark on his neck.

"_What was that? You love my hair?" _He sounds amused and I flush at my inadvertent admission before trying to backpedal without being obvious.

"Yes, it's very pretty."

"_Hey! My hair is not 'pretty.'"_

"It is so." I chuckle at his indignation, which is very cute. _Cute_... I shake my head and try to get the conversation back on track before we take it somewhere dangerous. "Anyway, tell me about the one on your neck."

"_It's an Ouroboros. A dragon that's-"_

"Eating its own tail."

"_Yeah, that's right_."

"When did you get them?"

"_The Pearl Jam I got after sophomore year after... after some stuff happened. And the Ouroboros I got last year. We talked about them a little in a religion class I took and I really liked the symbolism."_

"The continual recreation of life from itself and what came before?"

"_Right. I was pretty... I don't know, depressed, maybe, for awhile after it became clear that playing baseball was not in my future. I'd been playing since I was little. It was sort of my anchor – wherever I went, when we moved, there was always Little League. When I had to give it up, I wasn't really sure what to do with myself."_

"But you've figured it out?"

"_I think so. And I liked the symbol because, well, out of every death... or ending, something new comes, you know? Even if it's not quite what you're expecting."_ He says the last bit quietly; I don't think he's still talking about the tattoo.

We're both silent for a few moments. I think about what he said and am curious about the "stuff that happened," but don't press. "That's really cool, all of it. I always like when tattoos have some sort of meaning. A girl on my hall freshman year got a huge abstract giraffe on her leg, after she saw a drawing on a _menu_ at her favorite restaurant. It looked like a tree. You _know_ she's going to regret that one of these days."

"_Well, I was thinking about a butterfly or hummingbird for my next one. Something extra masculine."_

"I am sure it will suit you well," I say, laughing. "Actually, I've kind of been thinking about getting one, maybe on my wrist." I'd had the idea a week or so ago, of getting something small for Dad, but haven't yet decided what I want, if anything.

"_Really? If you come visit Pete, I can take you to the guy I used."_

The line is silent. For the first time, one of us has crossed the invisible barrier between our phone calls and "real life" and suggested there could be more behind our late night conversations.

My excitement at the idea is tempered by the awkward silence.

"_You know, that is if you'd want company."_ Jasper sounds like he's actively trying not to sound desperate as he tries to force us back to our usual air of casualness.

"That would be great. I'm sure I would be really nervous. I'm not so good with blood and stuff like that."

"_So, you're not studying Bio for pre-med, huh?_

I gratefully latch onto Jasper's offered change of topic. "No, definitely not. Although...."

We spend the rest of the conversation talking about our usual things and nothing of consequence.

This sates my common sense but leaves my heart disappointed.

~ * ~

My cell phone was in my hand when I fell asleep, so when the nightmare wakes me - half-screaming and all-crying - alone in my room just after two in the morning, I don't have to search for it.

_"Call whenever you want,"_ he said last week. I am sure he hadn't meant at this hour, but I need... _something._ Something I know he can provide. I feel momentarily guilty that I am calling Jasper when I would normally call my brother, but Peter was in Forks all weekend taking care of business with the house and Dad's will, and is probably exhausted. Also, he could use a break from consoling me.

Jasper picks up on the third ring and his voice is gruff. _"Hey."_

"Hey, Jasper. I'm sorry for calling...." I try to keep the shakiness out of my voice but fail spectacularly.

_"Bella, what's wrong?"_ Concern replaces the gruffness and I choke on the sob that rises in my throat. _"Bella?"_ I hear worry in those two syllables, which only makes me cry harder. _"Hey, it's okay...."_

He says soothing things that would sound like platitudes coming from anyone else; from him, they sound like wishes and promises. My mini-breakdown and his soft words make it hard to hear everything he says, but I don't think I imagine it when he whispers, _"I wish I could be there to hold you, baby."_

The tears fall harder for a moment because all I really want, aside from my dad to be alive, is for Jasper to be with me so he can do just that. The few seconds he had held me before Dad's wake, his arms around me in simple comfort, are still clear.

Several minutes later, the tears have dried to a trickle and I'm able to speak and breathe reasonably well.

"I'm so sorry I woke you," I mumble. I pull a Kleenex from the box next to my bed for the fiftieth time tonight.

_"Ms. Swan, if you apologize one more time...."_

"What? What will happen, Mr. Whitlock?" I feel a smile tugging at mouth as I wipe my nose.

_"Let's just say I will refuse to be held responsible for my actions."_

A small giggle escapes before I can corral it.

_"Feeling better?"_ he asks.

"Yes, but...." I hesitate, afraid he'll think I'm silly, although I should be well past that worry after crying in his ear.

_"But what?"_

"What if it comes back? The nightmare?" I whisper. "I think things are better and then I have another dream or something reminds me...."

There is nothing but silence on the other end of the line. He rescues me just as I'm about to apologize and make a hasty retreat from the awkwardness I created.

_"What if I stay on the phone with you until you fall asleep? And then stay around a little longer to make sure it doesn't come back? If you wake up, I'll be here."_

Amid the torrent of malignant emotions, my skin goose-bumps at the possibility of staying up all night with Jasper, even if it's only on the phone. But I remember that he has an early class and he's already lost enough sleep because of me. "Jasper, you don't have to-"

_"I know I don't, Bella. But there's so fucking little I can do for you from up here...."_ He's quietly insistent. _"I want to make sure you get to sleep. __If nothing else, it'll make me_ _feel better about you being alone."_

"So it's for _your_ peace of mind?" I try to tease.

_"If that means you'll say yes, then yes."_

I want to be nobler and insist he go back to sleep, but my selfish side wins out. "Okay."

I situate myself under the covers, trying to find a comfortable way to hold my phone to my ear without worry of waking up with the button layout pressed into my skin. Gregor has taken up permanent residence in my bed, and I hold him with my other arm.

_"All settled in_?"

"Yes. You?"

_"Yeah."_

We talk for a few more minutes. Jasper tells me about a test he has on Wednesday in his Race Relations class; I describe an interesting article I'm reading for Bacterial Survival. He fake snores as I talk about a new lab procedure and we end up laughing quietly in the dark. I want to stay awake and keep talking, but the edges are getting blurry and my eyes won't stay open.

The last thing I hear before an unexpectedly peaceful sleep takes me is Jasper's voice whispering a soft, _"Sleep well."_

* * *

**Legna betaed it all. The next chapter will be up on Saturday (1/23).**

**In other news, Elle was just made a VIP author over on A Different Forest - she joins LVP and a bunch of other really great Twific authors. Elle will be hanging out in LVP's cabin until she has her own. Come visit us both! (There's a link in my profile)**


	8. Between Planets

**The **_**Twilight **_**series is the property of Stephenie Meyer - No copyright infringement is intended.**

**This entire fic is dedicated to JAustenlover.**

**

* * *

**

_**Between Planets**_

_**~ * ~**_

_**Bella Swan**_

"Look at that. She smiles."

"What?" I look up from my lunch and textbook to find Kate standing on the other side of the table.

"You were smiling!" She grins and points at me playfully.

"I was not!" I say, and then I laugh because it's ridiculous to be defensive about smiling.

"She laughs, too!" Kate sits down and drops her books on the table. "Not that I'm complaining, because it's good to see, but what has you all happy-like?" Her quiet tone belies the joking nature of her words.

I hesitate, still reluctant to open up after what she said the night I got home from Forks. But it's been three weeks since Jasper and I started talking, and I've kind of been dying to tell Kate, hoping she'll come around when she hears that we just have nice, normal conversations. It's not as if I can talk to Jake about Jasper - even though he has Leah, I know it would probably be weird for both of us - and I'm still not quite ready to say anything to Peter.

"I was just thinking about something that Jasper said on the phone the other night."

"Jasper?" Her eyebrows rise with the end of her question.

"Yeah, we've been talking a bit."

"Oh." Kate fiddles with the peeling cover of one of her books as she studies my face. "How's that going?"

"It's good. He's really easy to talk to. It's relaxing."

Kate snorts. "Can't you just take a Valium or something? Go see what's-her-name on the fourth floor, the one who does massages?"

"Shut up, Katrina," I say, but I'm chuckling. It's nice to joke with her, and it's been too long since I've felt this good. Since talking to Jasper on Sunday night, when he comforted me as best he could from so far away, and helped cauterize the gaping wound that's been open in my chest for the past five weeks, I've felt as if my grasp on my emotions hasn't been quite so tenuous.

"So... you've talked about what happened? Back in Forks?" Her voice is serious again, and my stomach tightens a bit.

"No, not really."

"Not really?"

"Fine, not at all." I close my book and lean back in my chair with my arms crossed, focusing all of my attention on Kate.

"So, he hasn't apologized?"

I take a deep breath and try to keep my voice level when I respond. "He has nothing to apologize for, Kate.

"I still don't buy that, Bella."

"I know you don't, but you don't know him. He wouldn't do that. And you weren't there. You don't know what it was like. God, it was so fucking terrible." I rub my hands over my face, trying to scrub away the memories that are suddenly assaulting me and trying to break through my newly fashioned stronghold. "And Jasper was... he was...." I search for words to describe Jasper in a way that won't leave Kate rolling her eyes. Some of my earlier thoughts, about how he had made me feel when we'd talked before the funeral, come back. "He was like a haven... or a harbor. A safe harbor." I lower my hands and look at her. "He made all of the shit go away. Like it didn't exist. Like everything would be _okay_ and not just _wrong_ forever."

"But-"

"No, that's it, end of discussion. He didn't take advantage of me anymore than I took advantage of him. We're even."

Kate is clearly unhappy with this but bites her tongue. I stare at her, waiting for her to say something, but she finally holds up her hands as if surrendering. "Fine, Bella. You're right, I don't know him. I have no choice but to take your word for it. But," she continues, "that doesn't mean that I think it's a great idea for you to get all chummy with him."

"Kate," I say, sighing.

"What does your brother think of you and Jasper talking, anyway?"

I look down as I pick up my pen and tap it against my book. "I haven't told him."

"And why's that? You tell him _everything_."

"I don't tell him everything."

Kate gives me a pointed glance. "Really? Did you or did you not tell Peter about what happened with Zach Stevens at that rush party sophomore year?"

My cheeks heat at the recollection of that embarrassing event. "Okay, I get it." My highlighter spins easily over the back of my thumb but I abandon it when it clatters to the table. "I don't know why I haven't told him. Maybe the same reason that I didn't tell you."

"Because you knew I'd be upset?"

Even though that's part of it, I sigh with frustration and am almost done with this conversation. It doesn't take much to send my whole outlook into a tailspin these days, and I'm still trying to hold onto the residual positive effects on my mood from falling asleep on the phone with Jasper a couple of nights ago. "No, it's just.... It feels nice to have something...."

"Something that's just yours? Private?" Kate asks softly.

"_Yes_." I smile at her, relieved she seems to understand _something _having to do with Jasper.

She nods, her expression thoughtful. "Okay, well, I guess I can understand that...." By no means does she sound convinced, but I'm willing to take any accommodation to keep this from becoming a huge fight. I don't know if I can deal with that right now. I'm finally to the point where I'm comfortable wearing make-up without fear that I'll just cry it off; I'm positive an argument with Kate will ruin this morning's hastily applied mascara. "Well, it's nice to see you smile, whatever the reason." She picks up her books and stands.

"Thanks, Katie. See you later in the room?"

"You got it. We can go over our Analysis notes and try to figure out what the hell Sellers is up to with that assignment for Thursday."

I wave as she leaves and reopen my book. I try not to let her negativity bring me down, but I can't help but feel that the sanctity of our conversations has been breached and it worries me, although I don't quite know why.

~ * ~

It's the last Saturday of March and I can't breathe.

"So, when Dad comes home, Peter's wearing a scarf and this weird fake fruit on his head, like he's Carmen Miranda, another scarf around his chest like a bra, and an _apron_ as a skirt. No pants!" I'm laughing so hard my stomach is aching and Jasper sounds like he's in the same state.

_"Holy shit, what did your dad do?"_

"Oh god, you should have seen him. He took one look at Peter, looked at our mom and said, 'I knew we should have just named him Samantha'!" I'm crying and can't remember the last time I laughed this hard.

_"Please, please let there be photos of this."_

"Well, there _were_ until I dug one out senior year and gave it to Lauren. Then Peter found the rest and shredded them."

_"Samantha,"_ Jasper mumbles, and we're both lost in laughter, howling like idiots.

"Oh my god," I manage, wiping away tears. For a couple of minutes, the only sounds between us are quiet chuckles and small gasps as we catch our breath. It's comfortable and it feels good to be happy.

_"So, I was thinking..."_ Jasper says suddenly, his voice missing some of the buoyancy from a couple of minutes ago.

A small pit starts to form in my stomach. Few good conversations ever started like that. "So, I was thinking" is right up there with "we need to talk" in the annals of relationship-killing phrases. The mood has been carefree all night, but I can feel it starting to dip.

"You were thinking...?" I hope the four syllables don't give away my sudden anxiety.

_"Well...."_ He trails off again and the pit grows a bit larger at his obvious hesitance. _"We've never talked about what happened with us back in Forks...."_ I hold my breath as my skin breaks out in goose bumps. I honestly don't know if I'm nervous or excited that he's bringing it up, and before I can begin to figure it out, he continues. _"I think we should talk about it, about what happened. About what we're doing here."_ As if he's afraid I'm going to protest, he rushes on. _"I really fucking like talking to you, Bella, and I don't want that to stop. I just think we should deal with it. _ _What do you think?" _

I think about how to respond so that nothing dumb comes out of my mouth. He deserves a better response than he received last time he said we should talk about it, back in Forks, when I brushed him off and spent the night alone and crying. I really don't want that to happen again.

The idea that we might get it all out in the open is both scary and liberating. We have dutifully skirted the topic until now, neither of us crossing whatever line we'd made in the sand that separated "okay" from "unsafe" discussion topics.

Has it felt like a cloud hanging over him, too?

"Yeah," I say. "That's a good idea."

_"Yeah?"_ Jasper sounds relieved and I smile despite my desire to hide under my bed. _"I wasn't sure what you'd-"_ Jasper cuts off and there's a loud noise in the background. _"Fuck. Hang on a second." _ I can hear some noises and then voices, but they're too muffled to make out.

Jasper comes back about thirty seconds later. _"Bella?"_

"Everything okay?"

_"Yeah. Well, no. I have to go."_ There's an edge to his voice and his words are clipped.

"Oh." Disappointment floods through me immediately.

_"I forgot about this stupid fucking thing tonight and the guys just came by."_ He groans. _"Bella, I'm so sorry."_

My alarm clock reads 12:15. "It's really late," I murmur.

_"You know what? I'll tell them I'm not gonna go."_ His frustration is clear and I imagine him rubbing his elbow, the one with the scars on it, like I had seen him do a few times in Forks. I wonder if he's even aware that he does it. It's one of the many mysteries of Jasper Whitlock that I want to solve.

"No, go, Jasper. We can always talk about it next time."

_"Can.... Will you call? Tomorrow?"_

I sit for a moment, considering his words. This is the first time either of us has referenced talking on a specific day and I'm surprised that the happiness I'd been feeling before blanks out a little bit of the trepidation about having The Talk.

"Okay, I can call tomorrow."

_"You think Kate- Fuck, hang on."_ There are more muffled voices and then he's back again. _"Sorry. Do you think she'll be home?"_

I think quickly. There's no way to know for sure. "If she's going to be here, I'll work something out. I'll call earlier or from the laundry room or something."

_"Great, that's great."_ He's clearly relieved and I start to feel a little less nervous. _"I'm really sorry about this."_

"It's okay, really."

_"I'll talk to you tomorrow night."_ I smile to myself because he sounds happy about it.

"You will. Go have fun!"

_"Thanks. Good night."_

"Good night, Jasper."

I hang up and start to sort through the two very different emotions I'm experiencing.

I'm disappointed that we won't be talking about it right away; now that he's brought it up, the idea of clearing the air, getting it off our chests, is dancing itself across the front of my brain relentlessly. At the same time, there is relief; an extra day to think about what I want to say to him, what I want to tell him, can only be beneficial.

Do I want to tell him how I feel? Well, how I _think_ I feel? There is something there that I haven't let myself identify, name, or even contemplate for too long. But it's right near the surface, and every time I talk to him, it pokes at me, trying to get out.

Is it possible he could feel as I do?

There are whispers around the edges of my mind of the instant draw I'd had to him, even through the layers of grief.

As much as our earlier conversations had shifted my focus from my memories of his body and what he had done to mine, the more we have talked, lately, the more I have started to think about it again. I almost died from embarrassment one morning earlier this week when Kate gave me a funny look and asked me if I'd had a nice dream. I mumbled an "I forget" and left the room in a hurry.

Does he think about it, too?

What if he wants this to be more than late night phone calls?

But what if he doesn't?

And how would it even work?

I try to balance myself between the two notions and calm my racing heart. He hasn't said anything, one way or the other, yet. There's no need to go off the deep end over nothing.

I take a few deep breaths. So much time has passed since the funeral.... Maybe that will be the difference between a mature and rational discussion tomorrow and what would have likely been both awkward and emotional had we tried to sort it out that night. It should be a benefit that I now know Jasper as more than just my brother's tall, cute friend. But that aside, I still feel guilty about what I did to a guy who barely knew me, and I hope he isn't going to tell me that he regrets what happened.

I get ready for bed and then nestle under the covers. When dreams finally come a couple of hours later, they are filled with blond hair, blue eyes, and much less angst than they were following my departure from Forks.

~ * ~

Peter calls the following day, late in the morning. The timing is a little weird since he usually calls at night, but I don't think too much of it.

"_How are classes going?"_

"They're good. Everyone's trying to wrap up already. I can't believe we're so close to graduation!"

"_Yeah, just another six weeks or so, huh?"_

"Yeah, I'm going to really miss this place, but I'm looking forward to something new, too."

"_That's good to hear."_

"How's Lauren?" They've been talking regularly and seeing each other as frequently as the four-hour drive will allow.

_"She's here actually, came down for the weekend with Jess. She's in the shower. I think Jess is cruising down the hall."_ Peter pauses and I feel like there's more he wants to say so I don't try to fill the silence. _"Can I ask you something, Bells?"_

His tone is strange, and I realize it has been since he said "Hello." I'm suddenly wary about what he's might ask. "Sure, of course."

"_Have you been talking to Jasper?"_

I freeze. This can't be good. I quietly release a long breath and answer slowly. "Yeah. We've talked a few times." I'm skirting the edge of lying with my omission that "a few" equals ten, but something's not right.

"_Why?"_

"Why?"

"_Yeah, _why_."_

"He's a nice guy. He was nice to me when he was in Forks, I just... like talking to him."

"_So you guys talked a lot at home?"_

"A little bit, mostly when you were out, I guess." I am starting to feel more uneasy and can't tell where Peter's going with this.

"_The day of the funeral, he said you were in the office, upset, and he comforted you." _ I sit down hard on the edge on my bed, taken aback. I wasn't aware that Jasper had told him that. How much does he know about the _comforting?_

I shake out my hand when I realize I'm making such a tight fist that my fingernails are digging into my skin. It is impossible to tell from Peter's words what he know. I don't know if it's a trap, but Peter has never been one for playing games. When he has something he wants to say, he's always blunt and open, and if he's trying to get me to confess to something, I don't know why he isn't just asking me outright. "Yeah, he did. I was looking at photos of Mom and he let me talk about a lot of nothing. He let me kind of get away from everything for a few minutes."

If Peter suspects something, I don't know if I've said enough to confirm whatever is in his head. If Jasper had told him, wouldn't Jasper have informed me of that? We had just talked last night and he hadn't said anything at all about my brother with regard to our "situation."

Peter is quiet for a long moment and I hold my breath, waiting for... _whatever_ he's going to say. When he finally speaks, it's something I hadn't remotely anticipated.

"_He's not who you think he is, Bella."_

"What do you mean?"

"_He's.... Has he told you about Maria?" _

My heart rate increases and I can feel stupid tears prickling at my eyes. The name is not familiar, and I don't want to tip my hand to Peter just because he forced me into it, but I have to know. "Is she his girlfriend?"

He laughs and it's a harsh sound that I rarely hear from my brother. _"No. She's the graduate student TA he was fucking when he was a sophomore."_

I sit, rooted to the bed, with no idea what to say. Peter doesn't seem to care that I don't respond.

"_I didn't know him then, but I heard all about it. It was a pretty big deal. A lot of people said that he was only fucking her for grades, and a lot of people were saying that she was fucking one of her professors, at the same time, for the same reason. I even heard that the _three_ of them-"_

"Stop it, Peter."

"_What's wrong, Bells?"_ Peter's tone is drippy-sweet innocence and my body tenses as I grow livid. I've never heard my brother sound like this, and I don't know what caused it, but I don't like it at all.

"Why are you telling me this? Do you even know that any of that stuff is _true_?"

"_I just wanted you to know he's not a very nice guy when it comes to women." _ He pauses and I try to catch my breath, which is difficult because my chest is constricted, as if someone or something is holding me too tightly. _"Everyone was talking about it,_" he says. _"Besides, then there are the girls who are always all the fuck all_ over _him whenever we're-"_

I try to ignore that and the way it makes my stomach drop and twist, and cut him off again as I try to focus on the first thing. "Have you ever talked with him about it? About the _rumors?_"

"_No-"_

"So, you've never heard _his _side of the story?"

"_No, but-"_

"Then until you've heard the full story, stop being a judgmental asshole." I realize that I'm no longer talking just about Jasper and Maria, but I don't know if Peter will catch that. There has to be a reason he's suddenly telling me this.

Tears are streaming down my face and I wipe them away furiously. I stand from the bed and pace across the room, trying to shake away some of the energy that is coursing through me. I'm mad at Peter for playing whatever game this is, but I'm also mad at my myself.

I feel like I've been getting to know Jasper pretty well. It's true that our conversations are almost always light, we never talk about anything particularly serious, but he has shared so much about his childhood and his family, what he likes to do with his time, and other things like that. I know his favorite movie and book. I know he's irrationally afraid of horses, which made for some amusing times when he was growing up in Texas. I know he'll stay up with me all night....

I also know how he'd made me feel, how he'd worked my body, how he'd definitely known what he was doing. It was obvious, although I haven't wanted to think about it as we've grown closer, that he's probably pretty experienced. A lot more than I am, at any rate, and it's not as if I'm virginal. Given how smart and gorgeous he is, it's not surprising.

The thought of another woman's hands on his body drives me nearly insane with something I don't want to identify as jealousy - although I know that's exactly what it is - before I can remind myself that I have no right to be upset about something like that. I haven't been able to bring myself to talk with Jasper about what happened in Forks or put myself out there on anything but a platonic level; I have _no right _to be bothered by what he does when he's not on the phone with me.

As the jealousy twists into disappointment that maybe he _isn't_ who I think he is, it becomes very clear to me that I have been hoping for more out of these conversations than what has been on the surface.

But life is already complicated. Graduation is around the corner. My plans for my fellowship and graduate school are set in stone. What have I been hoping for from Jasper? What was I expecting? He's certainly not going to swear off other women for a voice on the other end of a phone line or haul his ass out to the East Coast for some girl he barely knows, even if he'd happened to have sex with her when she was sad and depressed.

I inhale sharply when those thoughts cross my mind because _yes_, something like that is _exactly_ what I am hoping he will say later today when we talk.

I am shocked by this realization.

Confusion fogs my head as I stand in the middle of the room, wondering how my expectations have been blown so far out of proportion. Peter's voice from the phone snaps me out of it.

"_Bells? Bella, are you still there?"_

Now he sounds worried instead of mean and that makes the tears fall harder. I clear my throat and try to keep from sniffling so he won't know how upset I am. "Yeah, I'm here."

"_Are you okay?"_

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"_Look-"_

"Whatever, Peter, it's fine." I raise my shoulders in a shrug seen only by Gregor and my empty room.

"_Bella. I just worry about you and want you to be okay."_

"There's nothing to worry about, Pete." When he sighs, I realize my mistake: I never call him "Pete." My fake nonchalance went a step too far, and I drop onto my bed with my head in my hand.

We're both quiet for a moment and then Peter speaks again. _"It's just that without Dad around... I need to take care of you, Dad would expect me to take care of you."_ The last word cracks and I can hear the tears in his voice. I cover my mouth with my hand so he can't hear me crying. _"You're all I have, Bella. I can't let anything happen to you, and I'll do everything I can to protect you."_ He inhales shakily and chuckles, but it's a weak sound, nothing like his usual laugh, but also nothing like the vulgar one from a few minutes ago. _"God, this fucking sucks." _

I know exactly what he means. "I love you, Peter. I know you're just trying to watch out for me."

"_That's all it is, Bella, honestly. I'm sorry I was a douche."_

"It's fine."

He mutters something I don't catch, and then: _"Shit, I have to go. I'll call you later, okay?"_

"Okay, talk to you then."

"_Thanks, Bells."_ He says it quietly and then hangs up before I can respond.

I lie back on my bed and stare at the ceiling. Fundamentally, Peter is correct. We may have an assortment of family members and very close friends, but when it comes down to it, it's just the two of us. No matter what happens in my life, Peter is the most important person I have.

I can't let anything come between us, and right now, it's apparent that he does not approve of me having anything to do with Jasper Whitlock.

I want to be mad about this. I want to put down my foot and tell him that I'm a big girl and I can pick and choose my friends as I please, and that I don't need to be _protected_. But it's going to be hard enough to live on the other side of the country from my brother for at least three years. We don't need to make that distance emotional as well as physical.

And he's right, I have to grudgingly admit to myself - even though he doesn't know the extent of my involvement with Jasper and doesn't know that we've been steadily getting to know each other for weeks - there are things about Jasper I definitely don't know. My mind starts to spin quickly, turning over what's been going on, trying to understand it.

What have I been doing, staying up half the night, talking to a guy who – in all probability – I'll never see again? Sneaking more looks at a photo than I would be willing to admit to anyone? This close to graduation, I should be focused on exams and papers, and going out with an academic bang. I should be looking for apartments in D.C. and starting to plan my new life out there. I should be enjoying the last bit of time before I hit the real world. I should _not_ be setting down roots on the West Coast nor having stupid daydreams about _what could be_ with a guy I've only met in person once. A guy who wasn't much more than a quick fuck when I needed an outlet.

I feel a small measure of solace that we'd never had a chance to have our conversation last night. What if he had said he wanted more than phone calls? Would I have said okay?

Which one of us would have been hurt in the end?

I open my phone, which I'm still clutching in my hand, and pull up my contact list.

The gesture is symbolic more than anything, unless I clear my whole call log and shred all of my phone bills, but I do it anyway, and I don't even hesitate.

For the second time in twelve hours, I shove away the disappointment and focus on the relief.

I think for a minute about what I want to do with the rest of my day and decide that a study session at the library is in order. As I get up to grab my books, I let my phone drop onto my bed, one name and phone number lighter.

* * *

**Legna betaed it all. The next chapter will be up on Wednesday (1/27).**

**Come visit us on the Twi thread and/or at A Different Forest. There's a link to both our Twi thread and my ADF cabin in my profile – from there you can get to Elle's cabin as well. **

**We are participating in the compilation that MsKathy is putting together for Haiti Relief. You can find out details about donating and the compilation here:http://mskathyff(dot)blogspot(dot)com/**


	9. About a Girl

**The **_**Twilight **_**series is the property of Stephenie Meyer - No copyright infringement is intended.**

**This entire fic is dedicated to JAustenlover.**

**You'll notice that we're not quite moving chronologically ahead with the switch in POV - we're starting earlier than where the last chapter ended. This may happen in following switches, as well.**

**Back to LVP and Jasper's point of view...**

**

* * *

**

_**About a Girl**_

_**~ * ~**_

_**Jasper Whitlock**_

"What's up with you, Whitlock?" Brady squints at me as he lights his cigarette. He extends the pack to me but I shake my head. I only smoke on occasion, when I drink, but he still always offers.

I've known Brady since freshman year, since maybe day two or three here, when we both ended up drunk and trying to skateboard in an empty pool at some high school chick's party near campus. I guess I figure that of anyone, besides Peter, he'll pick up on what is going on with Bella. Maybe not specifically, but I've felt a change in my mood since we've started talking more - I feel really _good _and it's getting harder and harder to hide it. As much as I'm nervous to actually vocalize any of what's going on, perhaps out of fear that as soon as it becomes "real" it'll all disappear, I also kind of want to talk about it to someone. Someone who isn't Bella's brother.

"Huh?" I like the idea of telling Brady about Bella, but still, I instinctively feign ignorance.

"You're all..." He points at me and moves his hand in a sloppy circle. "You know...whatever."

"Nothing's up. I'm good."

"Yeah, I know, that's what I'm saying. A couple weeks ago, when we were out for your birthday - you got a phone call and you bolted. I didn't say anything because I figured you'd mention it, but you're being awfully tight-lipped about what has you all...whatever."

I laugh at his eloquence. "I, uh, I guess I've been talking to someone."

"Yeah, no shit. Is she real or some kind of internet girlfriend?"

I take a deep breath and he cocks an eyebrow. "She's actually...Peter's sister."

"Fuck me. You met her when you were up in Forks?"

"Yeah."

He shakes his head. "And Peter?"

"He doesn't really know that we've been talking. Only because I don't know how she feels about him knowing. She hasn't told him yet; I want it to be up to her. The whole thing is kind of...weird."

"Weird, as in?"

"Well, the first couple times she called she was pretty upset. She didn't really talk but I figured she called because she needed someone or whatever, so I just talked to her. Then she started talking back and now she just...she calls every now and then and we…talk."

He makes a face that indicates he doesn't get it. "So...so you hung out in Forks, exchanged numbers before leaving and now you talk on the phone. What's the big deal? Why not just tell Pete that you hit it off?"

I take another deep breath and now he looks amused at my discomfort. "Well it's a little more complicated than that." I nod my head toward his cigarette. "You done?"

"Oh, this should be good." He takes another long drag and then drops it and grinds it out. "Yeah, wanna go inside?"

I nod and we head into the caf. We separate for a moment to each grab a tray of food and the we meet at the register and find a table. When we're seated again, he leans forward and waits for me to continue.

I figure I might as well just tell him everything. It'll feel good to get someone else's perspective, and get it all out of my head. "In Forks, when I met her, there was this...this crazy _thing _between us. Right away, practically. Obviously it was fucking horrible timing, but we, or at least I, didn't have any control over it. It was just there, you know?" He nods cautiously, like he's picked up on what is coming, so I quickly continue. "Anyway, so the day of the funeral, they had a reception after, at the house. She and I were upstairs talking and she was upset...she was talking to me about her mom...and then she started kissing me and stuff."

Brady's eyes go wide and a smirk spreads across his face. "Unbelievable, Whitlock. You're the master-"

I cut him off before he can turn it into something it wasn't. "It wasn't like that. It was...crazy...it's hard to explain, I tried to talk her out of it...I mean fuck, talk about the wrong place and time, but she was pretty persistent and you know...I wanted her pretty fucking badly."

His face has changed, and now he's listening more intently, not quite so quick to give me a slap on the back.

"So we ended up..." I rub the back of my neck and raise an eyebrow at him to say _you know. _I don't really know how to finish that sentence because I'm really not sure what to call it. Sure, there are a lot of ways to put it, but all the ones that come to mind either sound cheap and wrong, or completely cheesy.

"Oh man, you fucked her?"

I wince, because it's the one term I didn't want to use, though I realize to him and the rest of the world it might seem to be the most accurate.

"I told you it wasn't...don't fucking say it like that. It was so bizarre. I think...I think I'm really into her. I was really into her, like, _right away_."

"Holy shit." He takes a bite of his hamburger and stares at me for a second before he repeats himself, mouth still full. "Holy shit."

I poke at my mac 'n' cheese for a minute before stuffing a forkful in my mouth. Brady and I just stare at each other as we chew, and I'm waiting for him to say something other than "holy shit,_"_ something that will give me some indication of what he actually thinks of all this.

He takes a gulp of his soda and then scratches his head. "Pete's probably not going to be thrilled. Whether you're into her or not."

"I wasn't really planning on giving him the gory details. I'm not sure he really needs to know about what happened there, you know? What good would it do?"

He nods and after finishing off another bite of hamburger, he speaks again. "Yeah, you're right, don't bother. Are you going to give _me_ the gory details, though?"

I laugh as I wipe my mouth. "I'm thinking Bella and I will be the only ones who'll ever know all the gory details."

He frowns for a second before his features soften. "At the funeral...that's nuts."

"Well, after, technically."

"So, you're talking now. Are you dating?"

"No, I don't know what we are doing. We don't talk about that stuff, we haven't even talked about what happened. We mostly just talk about random shit like music and movies and our childhoods and shit. It's like...she's never said anything but I just know that I can't go there. I know she's not ready to talk about it. But I kind of want things to progress a bit, so I'm probably gonna have to bite the bullet soon."

He nods and starts shoveling forkfuls of chocolate cake into his mouth. The guy can finish a plate of food in about two minutes flat. "You probably do, if you want more to happen. But she goes to school in California or something, right?"

"Yeah, and on top of that she's moving to D.C. for grad school at Georgetown and an internship-type deal after graduation."

"Dude, maybe you ought to think about not saying anything and letting this thing die out. Trust me, the long distance thing almost never works."

I sigh heavily because I've already ridden out this train of thought more than once. "I know, but...for some reason it doesn't matter. I don't _care, _Brady. I can't let it go, it's impossible. Even talking to her on the phone is better than nothing."

A smirk, similar to the one he was sporting earlier, creeps across his face again and he shakes his head. "This is something else, I tell you what. But yeah, leave the fucking part out of it with Peter, and I guess wait until you and Bella have talked about shit before you let him know. I mean, you guys are pretty close, you'd think he'd be stoked about his sister getting together with someone he knows and likes."

"You'd think. I don't know. He's been a bit off lately, but I guess it makes sense, you know, since he's been upset and shit."

I drop my napkin into my plate and move to get up. I'm more or less done with this conversation, because just like when I think about this shit on my own too much, I'm starting to get depressed. I ride high on the feeling I get from having a conversation with Bella for hours, I guess even days, after we talk, but eventually reality creeps in and I start reminding myself of the hopelessness of our situation. Not just because of how Peter will take it or how much he will find out, but also because of the distance that does, and will, continue to separate us. This delicate phone arrangement we have isn't always the easiest to navigate, either. I'm trying to keep everything on Bella's terms which means I let her call me, and unless she's upset, I let her direct the conversation. We don't talk about what happened between us or what, if anything, is happening now, and it's getting harder for me not to call her myself, when I kind of want to all the time. On top of all of that, I worry that Bella might never be able to get past the way things started with us, though with each conversation, that particular worry fades a little more.

But then the more intimate we get, the more we flirt, the more we talk about our lives and our plans, the less I am able to bear the distance. I can't stand not being able to touch her and pretending that I don't think about it all the time we're on the phone. When she called me upset and crying from a bad dream one night, it was almost physically painful not to be able to comfort her in the flesh. When she asked me about my tattoo, the one she saw when we were together in the office, it was incredibly difficult to not be able to talk to her about what happened, to be able to tell her how she made me feel and to be able to show her all the other things I wanted to do to her. Every day, my hand is becoming less and less of a suitable substitute for her gorgeous, perfect body, if ever it was in the first place.

It's true that if we started dating, I could go and visit her, but once I get a job I won't have the time to do it often, and neither will she. Seattle to Washington D.C. is not a weekend trip, for sure. I can't help but wonder sometimes that if we were to try this for real, and for the long-term, if it wouldn't just end up driving me, or both of us, completely crazy. And then I remember that we haven't even gotten around to discussing _us _yet, and these feelings could easily be one-sided. My gut tells me they aren't, but my gut is of surprisingly little consolation to my brain.

I turn these thoughts over in my mind constantly and just when my mood really starts to dip, she calls again and all that shit just fades to black. When I'm talking to her, I feel like I am happy to take whatever I can get, whenever I can get it. Having her in my life in _some _capacity is infinitely better than not at all.

Brady and I reach his building and before we part ways he wishes me "good luck with all the bullshit." As much as our conversation has gotten me thinking again, it feels good to have someone else know what's going on. I feel slightly less shady and secretive as I head back to my dorm, hoping Bella will call tonight and help fix my rapidly deteriorating mood.

~ * ~

It's just after midnight and I am lying on my bed rubbing my thumb and forefinger across my eyes, my phone still warm in my other hand. She's killing me and she has no idea. Bella spent the last half hour of our conversation telling me what she thought was a very funny, very embarrassing story about a drunken skinny dipping incident. To be fair, I suppose it _was_ funny and embarrassing, but after the first sentence, all I could think about was Bella, wet and naked. As I listened to her tell the story, my brain scrambled to craft a suitable image to go along with her story and then proceeded to play it on loop.

Just as I am once again thanking God for my single room, my door, which was slightly ajar, swings open and Peter leans against the frame. My heart rate speeds up a bit and I glance quickly at my phone, wondering how long he's been in the hall and trying to remember what I'd said before Bella and I hung up.

"What's up?" he asks, and it doesn't seem like he can tell that I was just picturing his sister naked. And wet.

"Nothing much, what's going on?"

He wanders in. "Lauren's coming this weekend. She's bringing her friend Jess, too, so I was wondering if I could borrow your air mattress."

I sit up a bit. "Yeah, it's on that shelf above the TV. She's bringing a friend, huh? That kind of sucks."

Peter's headed to the shelf but he turns back to face me and smiles. "I know, tell me about it," he says before turning back toward the shelf. "I tried to talk her out of it but-" He stops short and his hand falls from the mattress box to the desk below it. He picks up a DVD off the desk and turns to me.

"What's this?"

"Oh, _Donnie Darko_, it's-"

"Yeah, I know the movie, I've seen it several times. Just wondering where it came from?" His tone is a little off, though I'm not sure why, and I can see his jaw flexing, as though he's grinding his teeth.

"Uh, the video store. I heard good things, so I decided to check it out." I leave out that it was Bella who was raving about the movie to me, citing it as one of her favorites. We shared a lot of pretty similar tastes so her recommendation definitely piqued my interest in the movie.

He looks back down at the DVD. "Hmm," he hums before tossing it back on the desk. "Did you like it?"

"Yeah, it was really good. Odd, but in a good way."

"It's one of Bella's favorites."

The comment catches me totally off guard for some reason, and my brain is scrambling to come up with an appropriate response. "I guess that's why you've seen it several times?"

It's getting harder and harder not full-on lie about what's going on with Bella and me. Not acknowledging that I already know that it's her favorite movie is almost the same thing. I've been weaving a pretty tangled web of _omissions_ for a couple weeks now though, and I have no intention of tearing it down tonight. I still want it to be Bella's choice about when Peter should find out.

"Yeah. Hey, thanks for the air mattress. I've got an early class tomorrow, so I'm probably gonna sleep soon."

"No prob. You going to Shuter's party tomorrow still, or are you having a romantic evening in?" I ask, smirking.

He shakes his head, looking annoyed. "Hardly, with Jess coming up, too. Unfortunately, I don't think Lauren is keen on threesomes. So, yeah, we'll be there."

I am a bit relieved to see that his tone and expression have pretty much returned to normal, and I'm about to suggest we all head over with Eli and the others tomorrow, when three girls appear at my door. One of them is Alice Brandon, who I dated kind of sporadically freshman year, and I with whom I shared a few drunken hook-ups sophomore year as well, when Maria and I were more "off" than "on." I'm surprised to see her at my door, because though we're friendly toward each other still, we don't really see each other all that much, and we haven't been involved romantically in a pretty long time. The other two girls look familiar, but I can't remember their names.

"Knock, knock," she says, stepping into the room. "Sorry, Jasper, we were just hanging out in Marc's room and I thought maybe we'd come by and say hi."

I move to sit up fully, swinging my legs off the side of the bed. "Yeah, come on in."

She smiles and crosses the room quickly, flopping herself onto my bed and making herself at home. The other two girls step timidly past Peter, and one sits at the computer desk while the other leans against it.

"Ugh, you have Professor Kirkpatrick for one of your Sports Business classes right? I have him for Strategic Management and he's driving me nuts. You're doing really well in his class though, aren't you?" She slaps my leg. "Can you please tell me what I have to include in a paper to get more than a C+ out of that guy?"

I look over at Peter and watch as his eyes move from girl to girl before they land back on me. "Well, I guess I'd better get going. Later, J."

Alice pipes up before I can respond. "Oh, you're not going on account of us are you? Sorry, we didn't mean to interrupt, we just came to say hi. I'm Alice, by the way."

I introduce her to Peter and then she introduces her two friends, Tanya and Carmen. He nods to them both before moving to the door. "Well, I was on my way out as you were coming in, so I'm gonna go. Nice to meet you, girls." He gives me a quick nod and smiles at the girls before ducking out into the hallway.

When he's gone I turn my attention back to Alice and her friends, hoping they don't plan on sticking around long.

~ * ~

I'm leaning against the wall because the room feels a little fuzzy around the edges, watching Eli, Shuter and a few other guys engage in another round of beer pong. I opt out of this round, because we're all drunk enough already and they are just headed toward stupid now. I scan the packed room for Peter but I don't see him. I'm about to push off the wall to head outside for some fresh air when Alice's friend, Tanya, the one who was in my room last night, appears in front of me.

"Hey, Jasper," she says, wrapping her other hand around the base of her beer bottle. She's a cute girl, but she was mostly quiet the first time we met, and I don't really know much about her.

What I do know, or at least what I am fairly certain of, is that the seductive look she's giving me is a little more than just heavy-lidded beer-face. I look around the room again, probably subconsciously seeking an escape route, before looking back down at her.

"Hey, Tanya."

"Are you having fun? You seemed lonely, standing here all by yourself. Why aren't you mingling?"

"I was, I'm just...relaxing. I think I've done quite a bit of mingling tonight already."

She giggles and steps closer. "You're drunk aren't you?"

"Yeah, I suppose I am," I say, smiling.

"I'm wasted!" She accentuates this statement by throwing her head back and then losing her balance a little. I laugh and grab her arm, trying to stabilize her.

The fact that she's so wasted explains why she's much less shy than she was in my room. I pull her gently towards the couch and urge her to sit on the arm. She plunks down in front of me and then giggles and looks up. "Heh. This is awkward."

I'm confused for a minute until I realize she is referring to our...position. I'm a little surprised by what a different girl she is when she has a few beers in her, and though it's amusing, I really don't much feel like dealing with her.

There was a time, probably not all that long ago, where this would have seemed like God smiling down on me, delivering this over-eager girl practically right into my lap, so to speak, but not tonight. As sexually frustrated as I feel sometimes, tonight I'd honestly rather go home and collapse on my bed on the phone with Bella. I kind of hope she'll call tonight, but I doubt it, since I just spoke to her yesterday. It's probably for the better because I'm just drunk enough that I'd probably end up taking the conversation in a direction that I'd regret. Or, at least that I'd regret if she reacted the way I think she would.

"...threw up in the bathroom sink which was so gross, but it's probably better because I really don't think she would have wanted to hook up with him." I slowly pull myself from the thoughts of Bella and zone back in, realizing I've missed half of whatever Tanya has been telling me. I just smile and nod and she seems to be placated. As I smile down at her, thoughts of Bella still running through my mind, and she stops talking and her expression becomes more serious and more dopey-drunk at the same time. "Hey, Jasper...do you want go outside?"

Part of me is almost curious about what _outside _means. I assume it's the first step to getting me to take her back to my room, and I almost take her up on it because the abruptness of her suggestion catches me a bit off guard, and because saying, "thanks, but no thanks," goes against most male instincts. But she's all wrong: too strawberry blond, too short and her voice is too squeaky. Not to say she isn't pretty, she just isn't Bella. I've apparently gotten myself into a monogamous relationship with my phone, so I search my brain quickly for a polite way to decline.

I glance over toward the front door, trying to think of a nice way of telling her I'm not interested, when Peter suddenly appears from around the corner. He walks into the room and scans quickly before his eyes land on mine. It looks like he needs to speak to me because once he finds me he doesn't look elsewhere and starts to walk over. I look back down at Tanya and flash what I hope looks like a sweet smile.

"Hey, sorry, Tanya, I think Peter needs to talk to me. I gotta go, okay? I'll talk to you later." I hope she notices that I don't offer to meet up with her after, or tell her to hold on, and takes the hint. She just flashes me a lazy intoxicated grin and half nods, and it makes me think that avoiding her the rest of the night is probably my safest bet.

Before I can step away from her Peter is in front of us, looking between us. "Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?"

"Yeah, sure," I respond. I step away from Tanya and then Pete stands in front of me. We don't really move that far, but I suppose he just doesn't want her listening to whatever he has to say.

"Listen, there's a room free, upstairs. Jess is staying in our room so...I kind of want to take advantage. But I don't have any condoms. You got one I can borrow?" He glances back at Tanya and then turns back to me. "That is, of course, if you don't plan on using them all."

I chuckle and pull out my wallet. I assume he's making a joke so I don't bother to clarify that I won't be using anything on her, and that I only have one condom on me, anyway. I don't want him to feel bad about taking it - especially since I know I am not going to use it. I'm also not sure I want him questioning why I don't intend to do anything with Tanya. To the outside observer she is very cute, and I am very single. A couple of our other friends, like Brady, have already noticed the difference in my behavior since returning from Forks...I really don't need to draw any more scrutiny, and especially not from Peter.

"Here you go, man." I drop it in his open palm. "Go nuts."

He stares down at the little packet in his palm for an oddly long amount time before closing his fist over it. He looks back up at me and nods as he backs away. His expression seems...distracted.

"Yeah...yeah. Thanks. Have fun." His eyes remain on me as he backs up until he bumps into someone behind him. He gives me one last nod before he turns and heads back out of the room, toward the stairs.

I shake my head as soon as he turns around. He was acting similar to how he was in my room last night and I'm not sure what's going on with him. I imagine maybe it has something to do with his grieving - that maybe he gets into weird moods every so often - but I sort of wish he would talk to me about it. He rarely ever discusses how he's been feeling since coming back to school, and I know he has to feel pretty shitty sometimes. I suppose I understand though; we never talked about our feelings and shit before, so perhaps it would feel weird for him to start now.

I can feel Tanya's eyes on me even though I haven't looked over at her yet. I notice Eli cutting across the room toward the front door, most likely heading out for a smoke, so I decide to follow him. I call out and he waves me over and I quickly nod goodbye to Tanya, hoping she doesn't decide to follow. She smiles and waves a little, and I actually feel a bit guilty at the disappointment I see on her face. As I make my way over to Eli, I half-laugh to myself, and I almost want to call Bella and ask her if she realizes that now she's got me practically running and hiding from pretty girls.

I hang outside with Eli and a couple other guys for a little longer than the duration of a smoke when Peter and Lauren walk out hand in hand, Jess trailing behind them. I'm tempted to make a joke about his stamina but he actually doesn't look like he's in a joking mood.

"We're heading back to my room. I'll probably see you guys tomorrow," he half-mumbles to the group. He tugs Lauren along and Jess stumbles after them, both girls looking pretty tipsy. I wonder if something happened to fuck up his plans and I kind of feel bad for him. I would consider offering to let Jess stay in my room if it wouldn't look so shady. That and, if I'm honest, I'm kind of still holding out a bit of hope that I'll get a call from Bella tonight.

We watch them head down the sidewalk away from the house and then Eli turns back to me and shrugs before pulling another cigarette from his pack. Apparently, I'm not the only one who noticed Peter's odd demeanor, and Eli's guess is as good as mine as to what's influenced it.

I hang out with Eli while he finishes another cigarette, and then decide I am done with this party. I'm drunk, a little confused, and not at all in the mood to deal with overzealous drunk chicks, so I say goodbye to the guys outside and head home. I pull my phone out and glance at the screen, which indicates there are no new calls. Her voice could easily fix this bizarre evening, but it's late, and I'm sure she's probably out as well, so I stuff it back in my pocket and keep moving; the promise of sleep is just about the next best thing.

* * *

**Legna betaed it all. The next chapter will be up on Saturday (1/30).**

**Thanks so much to our steadfast reviewers for hanging with us. We both love hearing from you.**


	10. Dissident

**The _Twilight _****series is the property of Stephenie Meyer - No copyright infringement is intended.**

**This entire fic is dedicated to JAustenlover.**

* * *

**_Dissident_**

_~ * ~_

_**Jasper Whitlock**_

Sunday crawls by as I wait for Bella's call. She never did call on Friday night, which probably ended up being for the best because I was drunker than I realized and ended up crashing as soon as I got home. She did, however, call Saturday night and we had a particularly good conversation. It felt like things were different somehow, like she was loosening up, and we were definitely flirting more, so I felt like it was time we just stopped avoiding what had happened back in Forks. I wanted her to understand my side of things and I wanted to know how she felt about it all as well. Mostly, I wanted to get past it so that we could move forward, because regardless of how fucked we were in terms of distance and timing, it still felt like _something_ was happening.

So, I suggested that we actually talk about things, and luckily she responded favorably to the idea. Of course, about thirty seconds after she agreed, my fucking friends arrived, ready to go out. I offered to stay home, and I'm still kicking myself for not doing just that, but she urged me to go and it _was_ Brady's birthday. I neglected to mention that to Bella, though, and instead acted all weird because the guys were basically standing there waiting for me to hang up. I was relieved that Peter had opted out of going out because Lauren was in town, because if he had walked in with them, it would have made for a really fucking awkward situation as I tried to say goodbye to her. That's another reason I'm looking forward to this whole talk – finally being able to come clean with Peter and not being so fucking secretive. I'm hoping that's her intention too.

Naturally, because I am waiting for her call, the day moves painfully slowly. I know it's likely to not be until later at night, so I go out and run some errands, trying to keep myself busy until the evening.

Around four in the morning, I wake up with a start. My phone is lying on the bed, just beneath my pillow, and I grab it, worrying that I've missed her call while I was asleep. I pick it up and my heart skips a beat when I see that I have two missed calls. It quickly drops into my stomach when I check the log and see that they are from Alice and Brady. I check my voicemail, just in case. The first message is from Alice, saying that it was good to see me and maybe we can go for a coffee soon. I delete it instantly; Brady leaves a hang up, as usual.

I start worrying immediately, first that she decided she doesn't want to talk about things after all, that maybe this thing is one-sided and she doesn't know how to let me down easily, and then I start to worry that there's actually something wrong. I look at the time again and I realize that it's way too late to call her, but it kills me. I get up and stand in the middle of the room, suddenly full of nervous energy. I go to the bathroom across the hall and then return to pacing in my room. Finally, I convince myself that there's nothing I can do tonight, and that maybe she just wasn't able to get away from Kate. I take off the clothes I fell asleep in and get back into bed. As soon as I lie down, I start thinking of the call she made when she was upset after having a nightmare. She sounded so helpless and sad, and my mind becomes haunted by the memories of her quiet sobs as I tried to talk her down. I don't fall asleep again until it's light out, and even then, it's restless at best.

I wake again around eleven and check my phone to see that I have no missed calls. I decide classes are not happening for me today and eventually I get up to shower and wander over to the cafeteria for food.

By 10:30 that night, I've still done absolutely nothing with myself and my phone has been relatively silent all day. Sick of staring at the screen, like some fifteen-year-old girl, and willing her to call me, I decide, for once, to make a move and call her. I've moved on from feeling bad for myself to genuinely worried that there's something wrong, or at the very least that I upset her with my suggestion on Saturday night to talk about things. I will take it all back, if she needs me to, and happily talk about nothing forever, if that's what she wants. Her silence right now is fucking deafening.

I sit on the edge of the bed and dial her number, my leg bouncing faster with every ring. Finally, after the fourth her voicemail picks up and I sigh before the beep.

"Bella...hey. I, uh...listen, please call me. I just want to know that everything is okay."

I hang up quickly before I can stutter and ramble more, and instantly I feel voicemail regret. I wonder if I should have waited, if it just looks like I'm pressuring her more. I drop my phone on the floor and lie down in the bed. Before I nod off, I reach down and pick it up, wanting to be sure I'll hear it if it rings.

The rest of the week I hear nothing from her, and on top of that, I rarely see Peter either, and when I do, he's distant and always making excuses about having homework or having to go out. I'm starting to wonder if there's something I've missed, if maybe something has happened with the estate or Peter's executor shit, or maybe even the trial, that he hasn't told me about. It's possible, but it still doesn't totally make sense. It definitely doesn't explain why I haven't heard from Bella, since she's now comfortable talking to me when she's upset.

I want to talk to Peter about Bella, to maybe casually ask how she's doing and find out if something is wrong, but given his behavior toward me, I start to second guess whether or not that would be a good idea. There's a strange sort of anxiety tugging at me, and though I refuse to put a name on it, it's getting harder and harder to ignore it.

Saturday afternoon, Brady calls to inform me that we're all going out. All of us includes Peter, and I wonder if he'll still be acting the way he has all week. Either way, I look forward to going out and the distraction it will bring. As each day passes, I become more and more sure that I won't hear from Bella, but that doesn't stop me from obsessing over my fucking silent phone.

Two hours into the evening, I finish the last of my pint and watch Peter as he laughs with Brady at the other end of the table. His icy demeanor with me, and _only me_, is really starting to get to me. I know something's up...I guess I've known for a while but now I've got a couple beers in me and I've decided I deserve a fucking explanation. I probably should have addressed this earlier but I have this sinking suspicion that it has something to do with Bella, because I can't figure out what the fuck else it could possibly be, and I suppose I've been a little nervous that if it is, I'm giving him an opening. Avoiding it any longer would be ridiculous though, as Peter's attitude toward me has become obvious to our friends, too.

I get up and walk over to Peter's side of the table. He and Brady watch me walk over and there's no inkling of a foreign look on Brady's face. He's noticed Peter's attitude too, and I'm sure he was expecting me to address it at some point. When I'm standing next to Peter, I place my hand on the table and lean down so he can hear me over the din of the bar. "Let me buy you a shot."

He turns his face toward me but looks out, away from me, and his jaw clenches. If he didn't want me to confront him, he could have worked a little harder to be less fucking obvious.

"Now, Pete," I say calmly.

He looks back at Brady and then stands up and follows me over to the bar. When we get there I lean sideways against it and nod at the bartender. She comes over and leans into me and I order two shots of Jägermeister. She flips two shot glasses over and pours in front of us. I drop a ten on the bar and slide Peter's over to him.

"Drink it and then we're going to talk."

He rolls his eyes and I feel my face flush, although I doubt it shows. "Jasper, we're at a fucking bar getting drunk, what do we need to talk about?"

I tilt my head back and dump the shot down my throat. As I place the glass back on the bar, Peter follows suit. "About the fucking silent treatment and attitude you've been giving me. You need to stop acting like a chick and tell me what is going on. I'm not your fucking husband, Peter, and if you've got a problem with me, you need to fucking come out with it."

"You should fucking know, Jasper." His jaw is tight again and he stuffs his hands into his pockets and stares hard at me. The fact that he keeps using my full name and not just "J" isn't lost on me.

Aside from the one thing that I'm hoping he doesn't know about, I can't think of a goddamn thing I've done to deserve his foul attitude. Which makes me even surer that it's that very _one thing _he's referring to. Problem is, I don't know if it's about the fact that I'd been talking to her, or if it's more than that. I have no idea what she's told him because, like her brother, Bella does the whole bailing-without-explanation thing, too. I decide to play dumb and hope that Peter tips his hand a bit.

"Well, I have no fucking idea, Peter. Like I said, I'm going to need you to quit being an asshole and enlighten me."

He throws his head back and laughs this wicked laugh that I'd never expect from him. It's dark and it's humorless. His eyes slowly lower to meet mine again and he practically snarls, "Me, the asshole. That's brilliant."

I jerk my head to the door. "All right, outside." I don't bother to wait for some sarcastic or passive-aggressive response, I just head toward the door.

When I get there, I push it open and glance behind me to see Peter is there, following me out. We step out into the chilly night and there are some chicks lingering out front, smoking, so I turn the corner and head toward the back of the bar. There's a small parking lot behind the building next to the bar. It's private and mostly empty, so I hop the low fence and cross it. Peter follows and stops a few feet away from me when I lean against the back of the building.

"I know that you were talking to her."

_Okay_, _that's not so bad_. Yet, I find it hard to believe he's this twisted up over me talking to Bella and not telling him. "Yeah. I gave her my number before I left Forks and told her to call if she needed anything. She called me upset one night and we talked, and then we just kept talking." I try to play it cool but as often happens when you're caught in a lie and not sure just how caught you are, adrenaline is coursing through me and my heart is pounding against my chest. That, coupled with the heavy, warm, fuzzy feeling with which the booze is blanketing me, leaves me feeling like I am trapped in a too-small room.

"Well, isn't that sweet of you, Jasper." The sarcasm drips from Peter's voice and I'm sure he knows more than he's letting on because I didn't even know he was capable of being this much of a dick. "You never thought it might be prudent to mention to me that you had developed a friendship with my _sister_?" He spits the last word in a way that tells me "friendship" is not what he's calling it in his head.

"She never mentioned talking to you about it...it was weird at first, and I wasn't sure exactly what it was. I felt like maybe I should let her bring it up to you, when she was ready. I don't know, Peter, it just seemed like all of that should be her call. I never even called her, really – I left the ball in her court, totally. I thought about it, about telling you, but when I asked you about her earlier, you got so fucking weird."

"Earlier...fuck... How long have you been talking to her?" Peter asks, and by his tone I know it's rhetorical but I answer anyway.

"Since maybe a week or so after I left Forks, I guess. Very sporadically."

Peter turns and walks away from me and then turns back. He's pacing now. "I didn't really get the impression, when we were in Forks, that you guys had become friends."

"We talked. We got along. Fuck, Peter, why the fuck are you so angry about this? You're my best friend, she's your sister...is it really that bad for us to be friends?"

Peter puts his hands into his hair and rubs his scalp, and now his expression has shifted. He looks like he's going to burst and I'm starting to wonder if playing dumb was a good idea. I find it fucking hard to believe that after everything, all our conversations, Bella would tell Peter what happened in Forks and not even mention it to me. But I still have no explanation for why she went MIA, and I'm having more and more and more trouble keeping my faith.

"You know what's crazy?" Peter asks, his eyes narrowing.

"Huh?"

"My dad never said anything about having a girlfriend or that he was seeing someone."

"What?"

"Yeah, never mentioned it, and yet, when I was back going through shit at the house three weeks ago, I found a condom wrapper in the office."

My stomach lurches and a mixture of booze and acid bubbles into my throat before I swallow it back. "Peter..." For some reason I am still not ready to admit it, even though I know I am digging a deeper hole. I can't believe I fucking forgot about the wrapper.

He reaches into his back pocket and fishes out his wallet. "What's even more interesting though..." He starts opening the wallet. He smiles a little, and now I am fairly certain he's just enjoying himself. "Is that you and my dad happen to like the same fucking brand." He pulls a condom out, presumably the same one I gave him a little over a week ago, and whips it at me. It hits my chest and falls to the ground and I stare at it for a moment, trying to figure out how I am going to get out of this one.

I open my mouth without knowing what I'm going to say when Pete cuts me off. "Don't fucking bother. I think if I hear you admit it, I might just fucking kill you." He stops for a moment and turns away again and pushes his hands into his hair again. "Fuck, tell me it wasn't that day...when you were in the office with her. Fuck, Jasper, you fucking asshole. My _sister."_

I'm bombarded by so many emotions at once, and I have no fucking clue what to say because part of me knows that he has a right to react this way. But a realization dawns on me and pushes all of that shit away momentarily; I think of Bella's recent radio silence and it occurs to me that Peter has probably said something to her, too. She never once brought up that day in the office in our phone conversations, and only during the last one did I feel like we were close to talking about it. I didn't know if she felt ashamed, or regretful, or both, but we were finally coming to a point where we could talk comfortably and where we were ready to talk about _that_ and then...she disappears. At first, I thought it was because I had pushed her too far, too fast – but she'd sounded hopeful on the phone, and now I'm wondering if Peter went and fucked that all up.

I could understand him being angry with me, but Bella's whole mental state was so fragile - if he was half as nasty with her as he's being with me, it's no wonder she cut me off without an explanation. Anger overtakes all the other emotions, like guilt and shame and regret, and I clench my fists in an effort to guide that anger away from Peter...for the time being anyway. I need answers, and I suppose he does, too.

"Pete, it wasn't like that," I say, trying to maintain a calm tone of voice. I know he's going to be mad no matter what I say, I just need to keep him as calm as possible.

"Really? Jasper, my fucking father dies and you come home with me under the pretense of wanting to help so you can fuck my sister?"

"Peter, it wasn't fucking pretense. I didn't even fucking know her when I offered to drive you there. You fucking know that."

"All right, whatever. It doesn't change things. You make me sick. Jasper, she was a fucking emotional wreck. I can't fucking believe you. I mean...I heard a lot of shit, but I never judged you. I never even imagined that you'd fucking come home with me and pull that shit with my sister. Especially considering....I mean..._fuck."_

He paces in front of me and he's almost gone beyond anger, his expression more one of bewilderment. But what resonates with me is the middle part of what he just said. "What do you mean you've heard a lot of shit?"

The pacing stops abruptly. "Give me a break. The Maria Reyes shit? Everyone knows about it, Jasper. And you know what? I didn't give a shit. I guess I don't even blame you, she _is _hot. But I don't want you anywhere fucking near my sister."

My heart sinks, because I always thought that if Peter _had _heard the rumors, he had given me the benefit of the doubt...not given me a _pass. _"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about, Peter," I practically growl. I wondered if Maria would ever stop haunting me. Her position and our crazy dynamic had turned our relationship into some giant fucking urban legend at school, and apparently my decision to keep quiet about it and maintain my dignity, and hers, was a shitty one. All it ever does is backfire.

"It's common knowledge around here, Jasper. That doesn't happen unless it's at least partially true."

"And why do you get to fucking decide what part is true, without even talking to me? All this shit about being my best friend? If you were, you would have fucking asked for the truth, and not silently judged me."

"I didn't fucking judge you. I never thought anything of it."

"Until your sister came into the picture, and then suddenly I'm a dog."

The slap of Peter's hand against the brick wall makes me flinch. "You are a fucking dog, Jasper. You fucked my sister the day of our father's fucking funeral," he shouts. He wipes his mouth and pushes himself off the wall. "With my whole fucking family and all of our friends in the house. I know that's when it happened. I fucking know it. You were both up there. I mean, fuck, Jasper...you _are _a fucking dog."

"It wasn't like that, Peter. I care about her. Listen, I don't fucking blame you for being pissed, but maybe for once you should get the whole fucking story before you start spouting about shit you don't understand."

"I don't want the fucking details. There's nothing you could say that would make what you did okay. I can't fucking just let go of this. Just don't fucking contact her again."

Peter knows that we aren't speaking right now, and again I wonder if it's because he's confronted her about this. "Peter, did you fucking talk to her about this? Is that why she's not talking to me? Because you made her feel like shit?"

"Her? You think this is about her feeling like shit? If she's not talking to you, it was her own choice, Jasper. I wouldn't fucking put this all on her. I just reminded her that there's a lot she doesn't know about you and she's not in the right fucking emotional state to be making sound judgments right now."

I inhale hard through my nose, trying to squash the rage bubbling up inside me. "Peter, what did you fucking tell her?"

He stares at me for a long time before speaking. "I told her everything. She's my sister. Clearly, you never bothered to share during your little heart-to-hearts, but I thought that it was important."

I have to wonder if maybe I am looking at this all wrong. I know that in a lot of ways, that half an hour in the office in Forks wasn't my finest, but I also know that I haven't really been able to regret it either. Especially once Bella and I started talking. When it happened, it felt like we were both powerless to fight it – to fight that pull that we seemed to have to each other – but now I wonder if that is just my horribly skewed perspective on it all. I wonder because there is no other explanation for how Peter is acting right now. I've never seen him like this and I am fairly certain that must mean that I've done something horrible for him to turn on me so quickly.

Still, it doesn't stop the anger from boiling over. "What did you tell her? What could you have possibly told her, given you know absolutely nothing?"

"I told her what I know. I told her about your reputation with women."

"My...my what? My reputation with women? Did you fucking pull that out of your ass?"

"Oh come on, Jasper. Even aside from the Maria thing, you always have fucking girls hanging around you. I never said anything because I never cared, but that's not going to be my sister. I mean...that's the just way it is. That's not going to be Bella."

I start toward the fence, shoving my hands in my pockets so I don't strangle him. I turn around abruptly and shake my head. "You're a fucking bastard and you don't know shit. And let me tell you something – if you really give a shit about how Bella feels, or what's best for her, then you're also a fucking idiot."

I've said all I can say, because I am too angry, too drunk and Peter is too crazy right now to listen to reason. I turn again and quickly hop the fence and head back to the bar. I'm done for the night, but I figure before I walk back to my room I should go back inside and say goodbye to the guys and make sure they keep an eye on Peter. When I get inside, I see them at one of the pool tables, playing.

I start to head over to them when I hear Peter call out from behind me, "Hey, Jasper."

I turn around and he's in front of me in a second. I barely register his movement before I feel his fist connect with my jaw. The punch isn't as hard as I might expect, but I definitely feel it, and before I can even react, I feel a pair of hands on my biceps, pulling me back. Eli grabs Peter's arms and holds them behind his back as he tries to lunge forward again.

"Stay away from her. You'd better just fucking stay away from her," he shouts, still trying to free himself from Eli's grip.

Brady can tell I'm not going to do anything and loosens his grip. I feel like I could really fuck Peter up right now, but I know better. I'm not going to do anything that would hurt Bella or threaten whatever is left between us – if there's anything left at all. I'm hoping that the reason she stopped calling has to do with Peter and his reaction to all of this, and not because she believed whatever he said about me, and that maybe if I can explain it to her, I can salvage our already shaky relationship. I'll worry about Peter later, when he's calmed down and sobered up.

I shake free of Brady's grasp. "I'm all right, man."

Eli is still holding Peter, who's breathing heavily, still glaring at me and waiting for me to make the next move. I push my hair out of my face and walk past him and out the door. If I'm going to keep myself from hitting him, I need to get away from him.

I take long, quick strides because I need to get the fuck back to my place as soon as possible. I need to think, and then maybe I need to call Bella. She never returned my voicemail from before, but if I can get her on the phone maybe I can explain some of this. But first, I need to work it out in my head.

I'm two blocks from the bar when I hear Brady call out to me. I slow down, and a half a minute later he catches up to me. "I'm guessing you told him?" he asks as I start walking again.

"Not exactly. He knew. He's known for a little while, I guess. Apparently I was a little sloppy with my clean-up job, and ever since he got back from another trip to Forks a few weeks ago, he's been doing some sleuthing. This is probably why Bella isn't talking to me."

"What'd you leave behind?"

"Condom wrapper. He knew we were in the office that afternoon, and then last week we were at a party when his girlfriend was visiting. He asked me for one, said some bullshit about how he didn't have any on him and Lauren couldn't wait. Fucking Sherlock Holmes just wanted to see if they were the same brand. He had it in his wallet still, tonight, and fucking called me out."

Brady hisses. "Fuck, that must have been awkward."

"That's not even half of it. He's so fucking confused and mistaken, and he's being fucking pigheaded."

"Yeah, well...Listen, I believe what you said about what happened with Bella, but you gotta remember it's his sister. If you fucked my sister, I'd probably have to kick your ass, too. Just on principle." He chuckles and I laugh too, because it's true and because this is all kind of ridiculous.

"I know, it's not about that. I knew he would be mad, which is why I didn't tell him in the first place. I thought maybe Bella and I could talk, and then maybe if something was going to happen with us _then _we could tell Peter....and just leave out that stuff that happened in Forks. But he fucked everything up with his crazy reaction. He told her about Maria and he probably gave her shit about what happened, and now she won't talk to me and probably thinks I'm a total dick." I rub my jaw, which is now beginning to ache from Peter's sucker punch.

"He told her about Maria?"

"Yeah. And the thing is, he doesn't even know anything about it. He probably told her all that fucked up shit that everyone was saying. I should have just explained it to him months ago but I got the impression that he hadn't even really heard much, or had just ignored it. Apparently, he believed all that shit and just didn't care until now."

"You need to explain it to him. It probably won't do you much good, at least not for a while, but at least you can clear up the misconceptions. Are you gonna call Bella?"

"I'm going to try. I don't want her thinking all that awful shit is true...even if she doesn't want to talk to me still, at least I'll have cleared the air. If she believes me. She hasn't called in a week and she was supposed to call me on Sunday. I left her a voicemail and she didn't return my call. I have a feeling Peter has something to do with it."

"Sounds like it. Peter will cool off. Once he does, maybe he'll let you explain, and maybe he'll retract some of what he said to Bella for you."

We get the door of my building and I gesture to the stairs, asking if he plans to come up.

"You got any booze up there?" he asks.

"Yeah, I've got beer."

"All right, let's go."

I wanted to have some time to think for a little when I got back to my room, and then maybe call Bella, but I'm still not exactly sober, my face is really starting to hurt, and I figure talking to Brady might help me sort some shit out. I decide it would be better to call her tomorrow, after I've had a chance to process this shit, and maybe even a chance to clear some shit up with Peter.

Brady and I go back up to my room and we talk about the fight with Peter a little bit more, until there's just nothing left to discuss. I know a lot of shit needs clearing up, but I also know that Peter needs time to cool off, and so do I.

Instead, we put on music, play video games, and talk shit, and Brady plies me with my own beer until I can't feel my face any more, or at least until I don't care. He stumbles out around two or three and shortly after, I fall asleep, my worries over just how much I've fucked things up with both Peter and Bella suppressed just enough by the beer and exhaustion to allow me to do so.

* * *

**Legna betaed it all. The next chapter will be up on Wednesday (2/3).**


	11. Drown

**The **_**Twilight**_** series is the property of Stephenie Meyer - No copyright infringement is intended. **

**This entire fic is dedicated to JAustenlover.**

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_**Drown**_

_**~ * ~**_

_**Bella Swan**_

The room is filled with loud music and too many bodies – sweaty, drunk, dancing bodies – and one of them is mine.

I haven't seen Kate for what feels like hours, but I am barely aware of it. I'm barely aware of anything that isn't the loud music pulsing through the room and the large hands on my hips.

Lips brush my ear and utter, "It's too crowded. You wanna get out of here?" But I don't really care about that either.

The hands leave my hips and travel up my body, pulling me forward. Hot skin meets mine above the low back of my tank top and forms around my shoulder blades. I move closer to the owner of the hands even though it almost registers that it's too hot to be so close to anyone.

My hands are in the air, waving with the music, but as I move against the body in front of me, my movements are restricted, my arms no longer able to flail freely.

I wrap my arms around the long neck, much higher than mine but not so high that I can't curve my hands around the back of it and thread my fingers into the hair brushing over the t-shirt collar.

The lips are at my ear again, but are wordless this time as they trek their way down my jaw and across my upturned chin. Light breaths, cool against my skin, are almost refreshing before the lips leave my chin and press against my own.

Even as I open my mouth, I know that the music – almost hypnotic in beat – is making me do crazy things, is making me care less. The hands on my back grip more tightly, fingertips digging in.

The kiss, sudden to start, becomes intimate quickly, our tongues meeting and acquainting, getting down to business almost all at once. I run my hands as high as I can reach, massaging the scalp above the neck, below the too-long hair.

My own chest vibrates as the one against it rumbles. I dig my fingertips in deeper, mimicking the fingers on my back and the tongue in my mouth.

One of the hands on my skin starts to slide over and down. I'm getting hotter and become aware enough to realize I'm too hot, and I pull away – chest, stomach, hips – enough to let my body breathe. The moving hand on my back must see this as opportunity and finishes skittering across my skin and my thin top, and comes to rest on my breast.

I don't even try to stop myself from reacting. A slight twist of my body pushes my breast into the eager hand, which grasps for a moment and is gone. It returns seconds later but now it's pulling up the bottom of my top, sliding across my stomach and slipping long fingers into my bra.

I arch toward the hand but not enough to pull away from the lips and tongue exploring mine. My movement presses my hips forward again and this time I hear as well as feel the groan from the owner of the hand that rubs hard over my nipple.

My hips swing with the music and elicit another groan. The tongue in my mouth is more insistent as the hand on my back roams downward to grab my ass. The fingers in my bra tug down the lacy material until I feel air wash across my skin.

The music seems to be getting louder and the room is definitely getting hotter. Dim lights illuminate my closed eyelids and all I can do is _feel: _fingers, tongue, pulsing beat, hot skin.

All of the feeling is interrupted by a loud voice in my ear – a new voice – and a cold hand on my arm.

"Bella!"

I shrug my arm to shake off the hand but it doesn't go away, and the voice becomes more insistent.

"Bella!"

The fingers on my ass and in my bra have stopped moving. I turn my head to address the interruption that keeps saying my name, and abandoned lips graze my cheek.

"I'm busy, Kate." My eyes are still closed and I don't bother to open them. The hard chest in front of me is a nice place to rest my head, so I do just that.

"Yes," she hisses. "I can see that. So can everyone else. C'mon, let's go." The fingers on my arm squeeze and pull. The hand on my ass grips and holds me still.

The hand in my bra is rubbing my breast again and a belt buckle is making indentations in the skin of my exposed stomach.

Kate tugs my arm once more and I tighten my grip in the soft hair around my fingers.

She speaks again but her voice is farther away and more difficult to hear over the music. I catch "go" and "drink" and then the rumbling chest is gone and the hand on my arm has won and I'm being dragged through the mass of bodies in the dark, hot room. An arm around my shoulders keeps me moving forward.

I recognize the suffocating feeling just as it evaporates, the cool night air chasing it away. I stumble as I try to pull my hair off my neck and Kate stops us and does it for me, and then we're on our way to our dorm, and no one says much of anything. My fingers and toes are tingling with the last traces of music and my ears are ringing, and we finally make it to our room.

Kate forces a bottle of water into my hand and then pushes me onto my bed and slips off my shoes. A low, whispered, "Call me if you need anything. Sleep well," in my ear – words familiar, voice all wrong – is the last thing I remember.

~ * ~

The first thing I realize when I wake up is that the light is _loud_. My head is pounding and my mouth is dry, and I have no idea what possibly could have happened that would make me feel like this. I groan as I shift, trying to figure out if my body is intact, and a voice that is altogether too loud pipes up from across the room.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."

"Goddamn, what the hell happened?" I groan and pull the covers up over my head even though I'm sweating and uncomfortable. I just need the light to be _gone_.

"You don't remember?" Kate asks, her voice closer.

"Not really." I can see flashes of lights and can almost hear voices and as I run my hand over my face, I realize my skin smells like a party.

"That's probably good." She chuckles and I'm immediately concerned because nothing good comes out of that kind of chuckle, not when it comes from Kate.

"What happened?" I lower the cover and open one eye to see Kate standing over me. She sits on the edge of my bed.

"Here, sit up." She waves a bottle of water above my head and shakes a small bottle that rattles like it's filled with a thousand pennies.

"God, stop that," I groan, trying to haul myself up. I wipe my forehead, wondering if the glass shards that are poking into my skull are actually there, and am a little surprised that my skin feels smooth.

Kate holds out the little bottle and dumps two pills into my hand. I swallow them down with the water and am starting to recline when Kate grabs my shoulder.

"Wait. Close your eyes."

I obey, happy to make the obnoxious L.A. sun disappear for a few more minutes, and Kate starts wiping my eyes. The cloth is cool against my skin and feels amazing as she gently scrubs off what I assume is last night's makeup, caked on and making a mess of my face.

"All right, tell me. _Quietly_, please."

Kate snickers. "To make a long story short, you drank about half a keg of whatever shit beer they had and then hooked up with one of Garrett's brothers."

It's lucky that Kate has stopped wiping my face because at that little statement, my eyes fly open and I stare at her. "Oh no. Hooked up?"

"Well, not _hooked up_ hooked up, but there was some heavy-duty making out going on." She grins and throws the face wipe in the trashcan by my bed before pushing on my shoulder. I gratefully lie down.

"Please tell me it was Sam?" Kissing Sam would be okay, although I would actually be pretty pissed that I couldn't remember it. He's the best looking of the Sigma Nus by far.

"Um, not exactly." Kate chuckles again and gives me one of _those looks_ when I open my eyes again. A tiny flash of something flutters through my head as I try to recall last night, but I can't grasp it long enough to make it stay and make sense.

"Just tell me!"

"It was Seth." Kate is laughing now, and shaking the mattress, which only makes my head ache more. I give her a firm push and she catches herself before she falls to the ground.

"Oh god." I bury myself in my bed, hoping that if I can fall back to sleep, I'll wake up and find out this hadn't happened.

"Come on, it's not so bad, Bella. He's a nice kid."

"Kate, he's like sixteen!"

"He's eighteen, Bella. I checked with Garrett." She's laughing again and I want to throw my pillow at her but that would require that I move, which I'm pretty sure isn't going to happen until sometime next week.

"It's not funny."

"Yes, it is. And once you feel better, you'll know that. I'm leaving the rest of this water here. I'll be at Garrett's. Okay?"

I snake a hand out from under the cover and point in the direction of the door. "Just go. Don't come back!"

Kate laughs again and I giggle quietly. It's so ridiculous.

"See you soon, Be-" Kate is cut off by a knock on the door that sounds as if someone is outside with a battering ram. I hear the door open and then three dreadful words: "Oh, hi, Seth!"

I want to believe Kate is fucking with me, because it's totally something she would do, but a voice quickly follows hers.

"Hi, Kate. Is Bella here?"

I groan and roll over, forcing my face into my pillow. Suffocation will only take a few minutes if I can manage to keep my face pressed to the pillow the whole time....

"Just a second, okay?"

I feel Kate's hand on the back of my head as she tugs down the blanket. "Guess who's here, lover girl," she stage whispers at my head.

"Katie, this is not a good time." I wiggle down the bed, trying to stay covered as she yanks the blanket back, but it doesn't work. I finally give up and roll over. Kate immediately runs her fingers through my hair, which I'm sure looks like it hasn't been washed in a week.

"Come on. He looks so cute. I think he brought you something." She's whispering for real now and kind of pleading.

I pull the sheet back up to my chest so that it isn't glaringly obvious that I'm still dressed in last night's clothes. "Fine, fine. Just make sure you stay put until he's gone, okay?"

"Oh, no. You're on your own." She backs off the bed and picks up her bag, but pauses before opening the door. Her expression has transformed from one of amusement to one of concern. "Hey, are you okay, Bella? Last night.... It wasn't your usual style."

I try not to think too hard about her question and just nod. "I'm fine. Just glad exams are almost over. I got a little carried away, I guess." I shrug and run my fingers through my hair, trying to get out the knots.

"Okay.... Just don't forget you can talk to me if you need to, okay?"

"I know, Kate. Thanks."

She comes over and gives me a quick hug before pulling open the door again. "Come in, Seth. Sleeping Beauty is awake now." She winks and gives a little finger-wave as she disappears past him. I try to make a mental note to unpack all of those boxes she packed earlier in the week. That'll give her something to do while she's busy feeling guilty for leaving me alone.

Seth walks into the room looking unsure and nervous. He starts to push the door closed behind himself, but then hesitates and throws me a glance. He finally leaves it about a foot open before turning back to me and slowly approaching my bed.

I have to admit that Seth is a nice kid. And cute, too. But he's some sort of math genius and started at USC before any of his friends had even graduated high school. He's a sophomore now, and apparently legal, but that doesn't make me feel any better. I want to tell him that I barely remember anything that happened, but he already looks so uncertain that I can't bring myself to do it. I just hope he isn't going to make any kind of big declaration. I don't know what I'd say to that, but I'm sure it wouldn't be good.

He's holding a plastic bag and he reaches in and pulls out a bottle of water. "I, um. I got you some stuff. Garrett said you might need some." He looks guilty for a second, and then looks back into the bag again. "I also got some orange juice, um, with and without pulp because I wasn't sure what you'd like. And some crackers. Those fake cheese kind." He looks back up at me and I start to feel bad because it looks like he's worried I'm going to yell at him or do something else unpleasant.

"Thanks, Seth, that's really nice of you. I'll take the pulpy OJ." I hold out my hand and he grins before digging around in the bag and handing me the bottle. I wrench it open and take a few long gulps before replacing the cap. He holds up a little pack of Advil but I shake my head – carefully, because the pounding and stabbing hasn't stopped yet – and point to the pill bottle Kate had put next to the bed. "So, I...." _Sorry I got drunk and molested you...?_ Is that what I'm planning to say? I have no doubt that I was the aggressor in whatever happened last night.

"It's fine, Bella." Seth is looking between his feet and the bag, avoiding my gaze. "Garrett said that you were, well... that you just needed to sort of let your hair down a little bit." I frown, wondering what exactly Garrett meant by that; I'll have to talk to Kate later. "I won't lie, though. I'm glad I could be there for it." He looks back up and gives me a cute grin that has me smiling in response. Something inside me is relieved that he seems to get it. He puts the bag down next to the bed and steps back. "I'll let you go back to sleep, but I wanted to stop by and make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine, Seth. Thank you. Thanks for last night, too," I say, chuckling.

Seth's smile grows wider and he blushes a bit before he turns toward the door. "Maybe I'll see you at the party Friday night?"

"Yeah, my brother will be here. Maybe we'll stop by." It would be fun to take Peter to meet Garrett's friends, and he's only been down to visit me once in four years and could stand to experience one more real USC party before we graduate. But I'll have to figure out some way to make sure he doesn't hear about his sister's shenanigans. I have a good idea what his reaction would be like.

"That would be great. Take it easy." He smiles again before leaving the room and closing the door softly.

I rub my eyes in relief before taking a couple more swallows of juice. That could have gone exceptionally worse, but as I lie back down, I plot ways to make Kate feel lousy for abandoning me.

I rescue Gregor from where he's squished in between the wall and mattress and hear something clatter against the wall and then to the tile floor beneath the bed as I pull him free. I roll onto my stomach and reach my arm down the side of the bed. It barely fits in the narrow space and I figure I'll have to pull the bed away from the wall to find whatever fell. I sweep my fingers across the ground as best I can and almost immediately come in contact with something. Several patient seconds later, I manage to get whatever it is into my hand, and I roll onto my back, holding it. My cell phone.

It's been a while since I've fallen asleep with it and as I stare at it, a familiar sadness overcomes my mood, eclipsing the relief I was feeling a few moments ago. It must have been in my shorts pocket when I fell into bed. Or maybe I was holding it. Who knows. I turn it over a couple of times and am reaching out to drop it next to the bed when a scary thought flashes through my barely functioning brain: maybe it was here because I'd _used _it. I don't remember making any calls but I also don't remember kissing Seth, and that had clearly happened.

I open my phone slowly and pull up my call log, afraid of what I'll find. At least if I called Peter I won't have to worry too much about him finding out anything shocking at the party next weekend; I probably said all sorts of embarrassing things when I talked to him.

An intense chill washes over me, raising the hairs on my arms, and my heart nearly stops when I see the number at the top of the list. There's no name associated, just a number, but the area code is one that's now familiar, and apparently the number was one that I remembered even in a drunken stupor.

I haven't talked to Jasper since that night before Peter went off about how I didn't really know him. Jasper called me twice after that and left voicemail both times, and twice I listened to his voice and wished... wished a million things: that we had met under different circumstances; that I hadn't ever bothered to call him that first time; that I hadn't fallen for a guy who lived a thousand miles away.

Tiny wisps of conversations we'd had try to force their way into my head as I study his number. I've been very studiously trying to forget everything that had happened with him, and while I did okay in the beginning – immersing myself in papers and projects helped – lately, I have failed miserably. He has become the elephant in the corner of my mind. When I am trying not to think about him, he invades my conscious and subconscious, and I just can't win; I find myself thinking about him during class; daydreaming about him during lunch; dreaming about him at night. It's been six weeks since we've spoken and every word he ever said to me is just as clear in my head now as it was originally, and the feelings I felt have not diminished.

It takes a few seconds of spacing out before I notice the little number next to his phone number. A tiny "0:49" in black text on a white background. It's another few seconds before I realize what that represents. _Call duration_. My breath speeds up as I realize that of all the blank time from last night, there are now forty-nine seconds that potentially involve me speaking to Jasper, and I can't remember a single one of them. I don't even recall dialing the number, but the time and date on the call are for last night – early this morning, actually – so I know I did.

My heart tightens painfully and matches the ache in my head, and I quickly shut the phone as if that will make the numbers go away. Did I talk to him? Did I get his recorded, "Hey, this is Jasper..." which I've only heard once but remember like it's spray painted on my ceiling? Even if I had, his message isn't more than seven or eight seconds long, which leaves forty seconds for me to have babbled about... _anything_. Did I just sit there and say nothing, again? I kind of hope that's the case.

Burning tears, which have thankfully been in short supply recently, fill the corners of my eyes, and I turn my head to wipe my face against my sheet. I've been doing well lately... I think. I imagine going back to the days of unexpected crying and blank stares and general disinterest in everything and the tears come faster. But maybe last night's little antics at the party, and afterward, it would appear, are an indication that I'm not as okay as I have tried to convince myself I am.

The thought leaves me breathless because if weeks later I'm still not over... whatever it was, whatever it could have been... how long will it take? Dad still lives on the edge of my memory at all times, but that particular overwhelming pain has started to lessen a tiny bit. Although right now, lying here in my bed, it all feels too raw and open, and maybe I haven't really healed at all, no matter what I think.

When my phone starts to vibrate in my hand, I realize I'm still holding it. I clear my throat, preparing to talk to Kate about how things went with Seth, and glance at the display as I start to flip it open.

My thumbs stills and I catch myself in time to stop the phone from answering the call. The number flashing on the little display isn't Kate's. Or Peter's. Or Jake's. It's the same number, not associated with a name, that was at the top of my call log.

I watch as it lights the screen over and over as the phone continues to vibrate. It feels more insistent the longer it goes on, like the phone knows I'm just staring and wants me to move and answer the call.

My thumbnail slides into the groove on the side of the phone and starts to push the two halves apart, but then the phone is still and silent because I waited too long. I feel my body relax as this registers and then I'm in tears again, confused and hurting and... a lot of nothing good. My head aches more than before as the tight pressure of crying mingles with the pain of my hangover. The phone vibrates again as new voicemail comes in and I imagine his voice saying quiet, calming things, even if it's just another, "Please call me." What had I said that made him call me back after all of this time?

I throw the phone off the bed before I can retrieve the voicemail and roll onto my side, facing the wall. Gregor becomes the center of my tiny world as I curl myself around him, and I stay that way until Kate comes home hours later.

* * *

**Legna betaed and helped with USC Frat and graduation information. She's good like that!  
**

**Next update will be up on Saturday (2/6).**


	12. Tristessa

**The **_**Twilight **_**series is the property of Stephenie Meyer - No copyright infringement is intended. **

**This entire fic is dedicated to JAustenlover.**

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_**Tristessa**_

_**~ * ~**_

_**Bella Swan**_

"Bells, you all right?"

I take my eyes off the road to look at Peter for a second. He's turned a little toward me, his shoulder resting against the U-Haul window. "Yeah, I'm fine." I smile at him before turning my attention back to the road. "I should be asking how _you _are in light of the recent Lauren implosion. Are you afraid we're going to see her when we're home?"

"Implosion is right," he says, chuckling. "Nah, I don't think so. I emailed to let her know we'd be around but I don't think she'll stop by or anything."

"I'm still sorry it didn't work out." When he told me they broke up just a few months after deciding to give it another go, I was afraid he would take it hard, in light of everything else that was going on. But he'd been fine, brushing it off and saying that he wasn't sure Lauren was keen on the idea of moving to Seattle, and that the distance was a strain they didn't need.

"Thanks. I guess I'm glad we tried again, but I really think we had the right idea the first time. It just wasn't meant to work."

I nod and give him another small smile, and then focus on the highway. We left L.A. late yesterday morning, a little hung-over from Friday's farewell party at Garrett's frat, and made it to Redding before we crashed at a motel for the night. We've made good time today and won't have to stop again before we're in Forks.

My graduation went about as I had expected. Parts of it were thrilling. Walking across the stage at the sciences and mathematics ceremony was a very satisfying end to four years of hard work. But it was also sad and overwhelming at times. Peter sat with Kate's and Garrett's families at the ceremony, but when I saw him in the crowd, he looked so alone. It was hard to forget that Dad was supposed to be with him. Saying good-bye to Kate and everyone else had been challenging, too, but Kate had already booked a flight to visit me in D.C., so I tried to focus on that and not the end of my life as I had known it for four years.

Our original plans had been that Dad would help me move all of the stuff I'd accumulated back to Washington after graduation so that Peter could get back to campus to enjoy his last week as a college student. I was prepared to have everything shipped to Forks, but Peter had insisted that we rent a small truck and make the move as Dad and I had planned. We probably could have fit most of my books and lamps and various other things in a rental car, but the U-Haul gave us a little extra room, even if it wasn't a terribly comfortable ride. After the drive, we were going to take a couple of days at the house in Forks to sort through some things before heading to Olympia on Wednesday. This would only give Peter a couple of days before his graduation, but he assured me he didn't mind.

My little adventure at the Sigma Nu house was quickly forgotten, thankfully, and Kate and I had finished exams and then spent the rest of our time packing and tying up loose ends. In Kate's case, "tying up loose ends" meant hanging out with Garrett; for me, it had largely revolved around trying to get myself back to that place that didn't involve thinking about Jasper 24x7.

"Hey." I feel Peter's hand on my shoulder and glance at him again. His easy smile has become a frown. "Where are you?"

"What?"

"You need to get over or we'll miss our exit."

I look at a passing sign and realize he's right. I shake my head, annoyed with myself and how easily distracted I've been lately, and work on cutting across two lanes of traffic before our ramp.

"Want to talk about whatever it is?" he asks.

I scrunch my nose at my overly perceptive brother and try to decide what to tell him. My issues with Jasper aside, I'm not sure if it's worth my time, or Peter's, to get into the other things that have been bothering me.

What I had realized while I was actively trying to not think about Jasper was that I am not at all anxious to close this chapter of my life. While five months ago – even two, really – I had been excited about the prospect of getting out there and seeing different things, now I just want to stay where all of the expectations are known, as they were at school. I haven't told anyone, but I'm worried that once I get out East, into the illustrious "real world," that I'll find that I can't keep up and that I'll fail.

I'm disappointed in myself for having this attitude because I _know_, fundamentally, that I will be fine. I wouldn't have been given the fellowship or accepted at Georgetown if someone else didn't think I could cut it. But thinking that doesn't alleviate the feelings of dread I have about leaving the comfortable bubble that has surrounded me for years. I know that part of my trepidation is due in part to the fact that I will soon be thousands of miles away from Peter. He'll be just an email or phone call away, but I heard stories from other girls in the dorm that even a small time zone difference can make communication unexpectedly difficult.

I have been trying to shake it off, knowing Dad would have told me that they only way to find out if you're good at anything is to just try it. "That's why they play the games," he used to say. Even if one team looks bigger and stronger, if the outcome is always predictable, they wouldn't even bother to step on the field.

I'm not sure that voicing any of my these uncertainties will serve any purpose other than to worry Peter, and I am positive it's just a normal phase I'm going through, anyway. He has enough to deal with on his own without throwing my issues onto the pile.

I give him what I hope is at least a semi-genuine looking smile. "Not right now, but maybe before I leave?"

"Anytime, Bells, you know that." He nods as I flip on the turn signal and move to the right, getting us that much closer to what I know will be a painful separation, no matter what.

~ * ~

When we finally get to the house, there's more daylight left than there was when I arrived with Uncle Waylon, although not much. The three and a half months since Dad's death have put some distance between how I felt then and how I feel now, but as I look at the house, it doesn't stop the familiar constriction in my chest from crushing my heart and taking away my breath.

I hesitantly follow my brother up the driveway.

"We'll unload tomorrow. Maybe Jake can help if he comes over." Peter looks at me over his shoulder before he slips the key into the lock and pushes open the door.

I slowly step into the front hall. Immediately, I'm surrounded by phantom voices and images. Dad stowing his gun, clip, and shield when he first walked into the house after work. Peter and Jake chasing me around the house with handfuls of worms from Dad and Billy's fishing expeditions. The gathering after the funeral. Our family and friends who were here. I take a deep breath and try to force all of it away but it swirls around me and I can't even look around without seeing the house as a tomb for my past.

"Hey." Peter is standing in front of me, looking down at me sadly. "It's weird, isn't it?"

I nod and my gaze falls on the photo of Dad, Peter, and me that's still on the table in the front hall. It was from a barbecue that Billy hosted down on the reservation, when we were younger. I can still remember when the photo was taken. One of Jake's sisters had just received a new camera for her birthday and was taking pictures of everything: bugs, fish, the bonfire, everyone who would stay still long enough. She showed up a couple of weeks later with the photo, proud that it had turned out so well, and it has been in our front hall ever since.

Peter rubs my shoulder as he looks around. "We can stay somewhere else if you want, Bells. There's the hotel, and you know we're always welcome at the Blacks'."

"No, it's fine, Peter. It's just...." I shake my head and wipe my fingers across my eyes, hoping it won't be like this the whole time we're here before we leave for Olympia.

"Yeah, I know," he murmurs. "The first time I came back, after... it was pretty tough."

"I'm sorry I wasn't here." I step forward and put my arms around his waist. His hands move to my back.

"It was okay. Maybe for the best, even. We probably would have been a mess together." He chuckles a little and it makes me feel better. "It will get easier, I promise. And then...."

I nod against his chest and then pull back. As hard as it is to be here, I have no desire to think about the very real possibility that this is the last time I will ever be in this house, the only one I've ever lived in. I move around Peter and walk into the kitchen. "We should have stopped at the store on the way in." There are a few bottles of water in the fridge from the last time Peter was here, and I take out one for each of us.

"You want dinner or something? I can run down to Newton's and pick up some sandwiches or whatever you want. Think about it while I go grab our bags."

I walk around the first floor, sipping my water. All of the big stuff is still in place – the furniture and things like that – but there are lots of little changes since I was last here. There are a couple of boxes on the floor in the kitchen, filled with old pots, pans, and other kitchen things. A painting that was on the wall in the living room is gone, as is an old clock that Dad had on the mantle above the fireplace. Peter hasn't said too much about what he's done the couple of times he's been back here; I've told him I can help in any way he needs it, but I think he's worried I'll be too upset, so he's kept it more or less to himself. I do know that Peter wants us to go through as much stuff throughout the house as we can before we head to Olympia in a couple of days, so that he can put the house on the market before he moves to Seattle. He had briefly considered staying here in Forks, but knew Dad wouldn't have wanted him to change his plans. Additionally, finding a good job here – or at least one in which Peter would be truly interested – would be difficult.

Again, I feel bad that Peter and Lauren broke up. I know that being here alone next week while he gets the house ready will be hard for him, even if Billy and Jake lend a hand. I had contemplated calling my program head out in D.C. to see if I could delay my start by a week or two but Peter said that was silly, that he would be fine, so I'm still planning to fly out of Seattle on Sunday.

"Did you decide?" Peter asks as he drops a couple of our smaller bags by the stairs.

"I'm not really hungry. But if you want something, you should go get it." My eyes rove over the bookcase in the family room, which is now half-empty. "I think I'm just going to head up to bed."

Peter frowns. "You sure? I'll be back in fifteen or twenty minutes. You could come with – maybe we'll see Mike."

I chuckle and move toward my bag, but Peter picks it up before I can. "That's tempting, but, yeah, I want to be rested for tomorrow."

"Okay. I may go down to pick up a few things for while we're here, since I'm awake. That nap in the truck probably screwed up my sleep." Peter carries my bag up the stairs and then waits for me at the top. I pass him and head to my room, trying to keep my focus forward.

But it doesn't work, and as we pass the office – _the scene of the crime_, the part of my head that is still guilt-ridden screams at me – I instinctively turn my head a little to look through the open door. The hall light doesn't illuminate much of the room, but I can see the end of the couch and that's enough to start the avalanche of memories that has been building with our shrinking proximity to Forks.

_...Jasper's hands in my hair and his lips on my neck..._

The toe of my flip-flop catches on the edge of the rug on the hall floor and I stumble. Peter grabs my arm with his free hand just as I brace myself against the wall.

_...his mouth on mine, his hands on my body..._

"Whoa, Bells. Maybe you _are _tired. You okay?"

I take a second to catch my breath and pointedly avoid looking back toward the office.

"Yeah, I'm good. You know me." I force a laugh but I'm afraid it comes out sounding more like a wheeze, and when I turn back to Peter once we've entered my room, he's wearing a strange expression.

_...my legs around his waist, his body pressing mine to the wall..._

He glances toward the hall and then back to me, the expression frozen on his face. "You sure?"

I nod and unzip my bag to take out my toothbrush and something in which to sleep.

..._his eyes burning into mine as he whispers my name_...

"Bella?"

"What?" I look up from my bag and Peter's staring at me.

"I just said that if you think of anything you want, I'll have my phone on me."

I blink a couple of times and try to clear my head long enough to say good night to my brother. I hug him and then follow him into the hall, calling good night as I walk into the bathroom. I listen for the sound of the front door locking before I close the door behind myself.

Minutes later, I'm back in my room, shutting off the light and climbing between the sheets. I stare at the constellation of old glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling, even though they've faded over the years, because I know that the minute I close my eyes, my brain will assault me with all things Jasper. I knew that being here, in this house, would trigger it, and I'm not sure how well I'll be able to withstand the onslaught.

And it's not as if he hasn't been on my mind, anyway. Really, any progress I had made in forgetting Jasper was eradicated the moment I heard the voicemail he left me two Saturdays ago.

"_Bella. I'm so sorry I missed your call. Please call back. I'll be here... and I miss you, too."_

_I miss you, too_....

God, what else had I said when I called?

I had spent hours that Saturday afternoon trying to recall my words on the phone, what I could possibly have said during those forty seconds, but it never came to me. I was relieved to hear his message and know that whatever it was I had drunkenly babbled, it wasn't so terrible that he was mad or scared away forever. His message sounded nothing but somber, and like he actually missed me. After all of these weeks.

Maybe I'm not the only one unable to forget.

I have been somewhat surprised to find how badly I want this to be true. I had been the one to stop calling him without any warning, which had probably left him confused and angry, but somehow, he was still happy to hear from me. Happy enough to call back, at least.

It has been hard not to obsess about this. Had I not royally fucked things up when I stopped calling? Almost two months have passed, and I wonder if I try to talk to Peter now, if he would be more amenable to me talking with Jasper.

The rational part of my brain, which is struggling to maintain the upper hand over the out-of-control, fantasy-riddled part, still finds it hard to believe this could serve a purpose. Particularly now, just days before I fly three thousand miles away.

Even still, I can't help but imagine running into him at Peter's graduation. It's inevitable.

What if I see him and he ignores me, and doesn't want to have anything to do with me? That will make getting on a plane easier. But his voicemail.... Would he say he missed me if he didn't mean it? Jasper had never struck me as the type of person to bullshit like that.

What if all I can think about when I look at him is what happened in the office? What if I'm reminded of nothing but Dad's death and the disrespectful way I had mourned on the day we laid my father to rest?

Or, and I don't know if this is the best or worst possibility, what if whatever we had felt – if Jasper had even felt more than physical attraction – what if we find it's still there and it's _real?_ Would we try a long distance relationship? Email and text and see each other when I fly back West to spend holidays with my brother? How would Jasper and I handle the limitations of a distance only coverable by a five-hour flight, in a brand-new relationship, when Peter and Lauren – who have know each other since they were seven – can't even handle a four-hour drive?

And then there is the whole issue of Peter. We haven't talked about Jasper at all since that day he told me about Maria and I deleted Jasper's number. There hasn't been a mention of Jasper when he's talked about parties or hanging out with the guys or _anything_, so I'm a little concerned about what could be going on with them. Has enough time passed that I could explain things to him, and tell him why I didn't mention the phone calls, and he would be less likely to snap?

These are the thoughts that have been in my head on repeat. They are the perfect companion to the ache that has been present in my chest since I saw Jasper's number on my phone, and they nicely complement – and even enhance – the newly unleashed memories from the office.

I stare at the stars for a few moments longer before pushing back my blankets and sliding out of bed. When I crack my door, I don't hear anything downstairs, but I know I don't have much time before Peter gets back from the store.

I quickly cross the hall to the office and slip inside, leaving the door open enough that I will hear Peter when he comes home.

My feet scuff across the carpeted floor until I'm standing right in front of the couch. I sit slowly, fitting myself to the indent I imagine Jasper left when he was sitting here, holding me in his lap. The worn leather is cool beneath my fingers as I run my hand over the cushion next to me.

I know this is doing me no good, but I find that it's bringing me some peace, and in this house swamped with memories, peace is in short stock. Just a little more, and then I'll stop,I tell myself. Image after image of Jasper in this room, in my bedroom, in the family room, washes over me until I'm almost positive I can smell and taste him on the air.

It's becoming overwhelming, but instead of doing the smart thing and returning to my room, I lie down and rest my head on the armrest and pull up my knees. With my arms wrapped around my chest for warmth, I'm surprisingly comfortable.

As I listen for Peter with one ear, I tell myself that tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow I will push away inane daydreams and worries and focus on my future, which looms just on the horizon, large and bright. But for one more night, I lose myself in my mind, in memories of touches and words that can never be more than that: something that lives only in my head.

~ * ~

When I wake up in the morning, I'm confused about why my dorm bed feels so different until I open one eye and remember where I am. I'm still curled up, but now there's a USC blanket over me; I recognize it as the one that's usually downstairs on Dad's recliner.

It's warm under the blanket and I stay there for a few minutes, listening to the stillness of the house around me. When I finally get up, I decide to forgo a shower because I figure we'll just end up sweaty and dusty after unloading all of my things from the U-Haul and going through the house. Dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, I make my way downstairs.

Peter is in the kitchen, standing at the counter with a container of orange juice and a loaf of bread in front of him.

"Good morning," I say quietly as I open the fridge to look for milk.

Peter gives me a tight smile and nods. His hair is a mess and he looks surprisingly tired.

"Thanks for covering me up last night."

He turns back to the toaster and stares at it as if willing the machine to hurry up and work faster. "You looked cold," he says.

"I was restless and couldn't fall asleep. I kind of just wandered in there." I feel as if I owe Peter an explanation, but a more detailed one doesn't seem appropriate.

"I was worried when I found your door open and your bed empty." He looks at me, blue eyes blank, before the toaster dings and hurls up his toast. He uncaps and removes the seal from a new jar of peanut butter, and I really want to ask him if he's okay because it doesn't feel like he is, but it doesn't seem he's inclined to talk this morning, so I leave it. When I think about it, I don't feel much like talking either.

I squeeze his arm as I walk past with the milk and a box of cereal. We're quiet as we eat, and then Peter cleans our dishes while I put away the food.

We share a long look across the kitchen before he tips his head toward the front of the house. I move forward and he turns, leading us toward the living room, where we proceed to start dismantling our childhood.

* * *

**Legna betaed it all. The next chapter will be up on Wednesday (2/10).**

**We're both judges for the Eddies portion of the Eddies & Bellies Awards. Open voting is going on right now - there are some great fics up for some great categories! You can see the nominees and vote at http://www(dot)thecatt(dot)net.**

***FFn was fail, and so was I when it came to review replies. Sorry dudes, I've got another WIP that I need to focus on sometimes...but I read and appreciated every single one of your reviews, trust!***


	13. Disarm

**The **_**Twilight**_** series is the property of Stephenie Meyer - No copyright infringement is intended. **

**This entire fic is dedicated to JAustenlover.**

**We're worried about the weather and losing power, so we're posting a little early. Stay bundled up, fellow East Coasters!**

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_**Disarm**_

_**~ * ~**_

_**Bella Swan**_

My nails click on the tabletop. We've been at the bar for a bit more than an hour and I can't seem to get comfortable. Peter, who's sitting on my right, is leaning forward and talking to Eli, who's on my left, and I sort of want to just get up and walk out and see if anyone notices. I'm starting to feel snarky, and the beer in front of me, my third, isn't helping.

I scan the bar again and take note of a few guys playing pool nearby. One of them is wearing a gray t-shirt stenciled with "University of Olympia Lacrosse." He bends over to break a new rack and then moves around as he assesses the table.

"Easy there," Peter says, interrupting my mindless staring. "You're going to put a hole in the table. Or in him." He takes a drink of his beer, then glances at my hand and then the guy at the pool table. He looks amused.

I still my fingers and pick up the knife leftover from the burger I'd had a little bit ago, to give my hand something to do.

They're apparently done with their conversation because Eli pushes back his chair and stands up. "Going out to smoke." He holds his pack toward us. "Pete? Bella?" When we both shake our heads, he nods and heads for the front of the bar.

Peter puts down his glass and leans toward me a little bit. "That's Jared Erickson. He's captain of the lacrosse team. Want me to introduce you?" I can feel my eyes widen. "He's headed out East somewhere, too, after tomorrow," he continues. "I think he's from Philly. Or Pittsburgh, maybe."

"What?" I know I'm gaping at Peter but I can't think of any other way to react. The times my brother has tried to set me up with anyone are so few and far between as to be basically zero. That he's offering to do it right now is bizarre and unsettling.

Peter rolls his eyes a little and grins. "How many beers have you had, Bells? It's a pretty simple concept. You. Jared. Meet?"

"Are you serious, Peter?" I blink a few times, wondering what's going on in his head.

"Yeah, why not?" He shrugs and looks away to study the pool table for a minute, but when he turns back to me, the expression has been replaced by one that's definitely less cheery. He shakes his head and takes another sip of his beer. "You don't have to worry about it, you know."

"What the hell are you talking about? How many beers have _you _had?" I'm confused and I can feel the snarkiness wanting to take control.

He drains his glass and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. "Seeing him. He won't be here tonight."

My head is spinning, but now Peter is almost starting to make sense, and an icy feeling starts to creep through me. "Who?" I ask, even though there's only one person who _he _could be.

Peter quirks an eyebrow and glances at the other guys at our table, but they're all preoccupied and no one's paying attention to us. "Jasper. I know you're worried about seeing him." He looks down at my other hand, which has started tapping against the table.

I sigh and drop the knife and wrap both hands around my glass. How do I respond to that? _Yes, I'm worried about seeing Jasper. He's all I've been thinking about since we pulled onto campus yesterday. _ Unless something has changed since March, Peter isn't going to want to hear that. And since when does his answer to Jasper – or anything – involve introducing me to random guys?

Peter flags down a waitress and I assume our "conversation" is done, but after he orders a pitcher for the table, he angles himself in my direction again.

"I knew you'd be uncomfortable so I asked him to keep his distance." He doesn't quite look at me as he says this and his expression has morphed to one that is strangely blank.

"You... what?" My breath catches and the cold sensation in my chest continues to spread, even in the overly warm bar.

He doesn't try to explain, just keeps going. "He said that was fine, no problem. So don't worry about it, Bells. He won't be here tonight."

Two ideas worm their ways into my head as he finishes talking. The first is that Peter is misinterpreting my restlessness and seems to think I don't _want_ to see Jasper. The second is that I wonder how verbatim that "fine, no problem" was.

"Excuse me, I need some air." I push back my chair to stand and it almost topples over. I manage to catch it and grab my hoodie from where it's hanging over the back of it, before turning to follow Eli's earlier path toward the front. I can hear Peter calling my name, but it's easy to ignore him.

We arrived on campus around ten yesterday morning, earlier than we had originally planned. The two days of sifting through things in the house were as difficult as we'd expected, although we were somewhat comforted to find that we spent far more time reminiscing about good memories than bad, and we spent just as much time – if not more – laughing about poorly done crayon drawings and photos from high school than we did crying.

Tuesday morning, Jake and Billy came over for a little while. Before Jake gave us a hand moving some bigger things, we all sat in the kitchen and Billy updated us on the cases against the three suspects from Dad's shooting. The youngest of the three kids, who all really weren't that much younger than we were, had just agreed to testify against the other two for a more lenient sentence. The two main trials weren't expected to happen anytime soon – probably not until next year – but the cases were coming together well. As hard as it was to talk about it all, it was a relief to hear about the efforts that were being made and that all three of them would be punished and would likely serve time, if not worse.

By Tuesday afternoon, we were both emotionally drained, and we decided to leave as early as we could Wednesday morning. I packed everything I would need for my first few weeks in D.C., with plans for Peter to ship out the rest once I made a list of what I wanted. Peter traded the U-Haul for a rental car, since he had left Dad's car on campus while he was in California, and we left for Olympia around sun-up on Wednesday.

It has not slipped my notice that we haven't seen Jasper once since we arrived. I've continued to be torn about seeing him and am still not sure which half is winning out: the one that worries it would be torturing both Jasper and me for no reason, or the half that is desperate just to know that he's okay and not wandering aimlessly, as I have been.

Peter was right – I had expected Jasper to be here at the bar tonight, since they have the same friends. I've been growing suspicious of his absence – which is very odd, given the size of the campus and the fact that Peter and Jasper live in the same building – and wondering if maybe it has been orchestrated. I just wasn't sure who was pulling the strings: my brother or Jasper.

Although "fine, no problem" doesn't leave me with a very warm feeling, given what Peter just said inside, it looks like he's been the one controlling the situation. I have to wonder why he's going to such trouble to keep Jasper away from me over what was, to his knowledge, basically a handful of phone calls between his best friend and his sister.

This makes me think that maybe he knows more than I think he knows or than he's indicated.

I take a couple of deep breaths of the damp night air and remind myself why I'd stopped calling Jasper in the first place: aside from everything about the timing being terrible, I barely know him. If a few phone calls with him are enough to get my brother this riled, yet he's willing to introduce me to some guy at whom I wasn't even really looking, there must be something really wrong with Jasper. It is a struggle for me to believe this, but my brother's always been a sensible guy. He wouldn't go over the deep end for no reason. Although I don't know why they're even friends, if that's the case.

"Bella." I look over my shoulder to see the bar door swing closed behind my brother. "Come back inside. I don't want you out here alone."

It would be a semi-reasonable request if it didn't sound so much like a demand. I don't know this area, or any of the people, but I'm a cop's daughter and can take care of myself – at least in a crowded parking lot, twenty feet from the front door of a restaurant – so the statement rankles me.

"I'm fine, Peter." I can feel Peter approach as I watch cars pass on the road in front of the bar.

"Come on, Bells."

I turn on him, my temper flaring up. "So it's okay for you to want to send me off with some guy I don't even know, but I can't stand out here by myself for five minutes?" I try to keep my voice quiet because I'm really not interested in making a scene, but the beer in me has taken away my patience.

"Bella, it wasn't like that. I was just joking...."

"You were _joking?_"

"Yeah, you know, just giving you a hard time because you were ogling Jared." Peter's lip curls in a half-smile but the amusement doesn't touch his eyes.

"Jesus, Peter. But what you said about Jasper...."

"Yes?" The lame attempt at a smile is gone, and his voice is low; his eyes are flashing with something dangerous and hard.

"I-"

"Come on, Swan twins," a voice behind me interrupts. "It's starting to rain." I look around and see Eli rising from a bench in front of the bar. He drops his cigarette to the ground and steps on it.

Peter's watching me, waiting for me to continue, and I'm about to tell Eli to go on without us when I start to feel the rain on my bare shoulders; my hoodie is still clutched in my hand.

Peter looks up at the sky for a moment and when he looks back down at me, some of the fight that had been there a moment ago is gone. He just looks tired, like I feel. He jerks his chin toward the bar and it doesn't seem worth it to pitch a fit and try to continue the conversation, which would likely become an argument. Tomorrow is already going to be emotional enough.

I nod as I slip on my sweatshirt, and then follow my brother toward Eli, who is holding open the door.

Just before we re-enter the bar, Peter puts his arm around my shoulders for a moment and kisses my temple. "Sorry, Bells," he murmurs.

I smile up at him to let him know it's okay – and it is. Given all that's been going on, and the fact that we've been in each other's company for more than a week straight, it's surprising that we haven't been more short with each other lately.

Eli tugs my hair and winks at me, mouthing, "Brothers," as I pass in front of him, ahead of Peter.

"Hey, I saw that, jackass," Peter says behind me, and then there's an "oof" that I assume is the result of my brother hitting Eli.

I peek over my shoulder and am relieved to see that they're both grinning and Peter's trying to duck Eli's attempts to put him in a headlock. I hear one of the guys at the table call my name and we join them again, and I try to enjoy one of the last nights I'll have with Peter for many months.

~ * ~

The morning of Peter's graduation dawns much less sunny than did mine. He gets dressed while I straighten his bed. I still feel bad that he's sleeping on the floor in his own room, but he keeps insisting that he doesn't mind.

"Some help, Bells?" I look up and he's pulling out the knot he had attempted to make in his tie. "I can never get these damn things right." His hands fall to his sides as I step in front of him. The knot is half-complete when he blows out a long breath. "I thought this was going to be easier."

"What?" I look up at him and then back down as I finish pulling the wide end through the knot.

"My graduation. I thought it would be easier after going through yours. Not having Dad here."

My fingers still on the knot and in seconds, I'm blinking rapidly, trying to stop the tears. I nod as I tug the knot a little bit until it's centered perfectly between the points of Peter's shirt collar, afraid that if I speak I'll just end up crying. I pat the front of Peter's shirt and step back to see how it looks, but before I'm two feet away, he pulls me into a hug. His arms hold me tightly to his chest while my sobs bubble up.

I can feel his chest shaking against mine as we stand in the middle of his room and try to both remember and forget what it would have meant to Dad for him to be here. Not only had I graduated with Honors, but Peter is going to, as well, and he even ended up with a GPA higher than mine. He has already had one job interview in Seattle with another lined up in a couple of weeks, in addition to a line on an apartment to sublet if he is offered either position. For the first time in years, I find myself wishing that the whole family could be together. Not just Peter, Dad, and me, but Mom, as well. I like to think that she'd be proud of us, too, if she could be bothered to care.

Peter is rubbing my back gently and after several minutes, I'm feeling better and I guess he is, too. He releases me and hands me a Kleenex from a box on his desk.

"Did I get mascara on your shirt?" I inspect it and don't find anything but a couple of wet spots, and then turn to the mirror to see what kind of damage I've done to my makeup. As I finish a quick touch-up to make myself presentable, there's a knock on the door. I fix my hair and then stuff a few tissues into my purse while Peter answers it.

"You guys ready?" says a voice that I recognize as Eli's.

"Are you all set, Bella?" Peter throws his gown over his arm and picks up his stole and cap from his desk, swinging the green tassel around as he waits for me.

"Yeah." I give myself one last glance in the mirror because regardless of the games that my brother might be playing, there's no way I _won't_ see Jasper during the graduation ceremony. That doesn't mean he'll see me, and I still don't know what to say to him, but I would lying if I said the thought of it wasn't affecting my pulse.

"My parents are already outside," Eli tells us as we walk toward the elevators. The ceremony starts at 10:00 and the graduates have to be in line by 9:30, but everyone had decided we would congregate in front of the dorms beforehand. "Collin's folks are already here, too, and Brady's. And-" He cuts off as we step onto the elevator, a funny look on his face. "Well, everyone's, pretty much."

"Our aunt and uncle weren't sure they'd be here early enough so they're going to meet Bella in the seats." Peter tugs on his tie a little and hands me his cap and stole so he can shrug into his gown.

My fingers dig into the soft fabric of the stole as I stare straight ahead and avoid looking at either of them, but Eli's reflection is clear enough in the elevator door that I see his eyes grow wide and his mouth drop open a little bit. "Oh. Shit. Oh. Fuck, I'm sorry, Pete, Bella. I wasn't thinking."

I tilt my head enough to see Peter's face and he gives me a grim smile before he adjusts his tie again and looks at Eli. "It's okay, man. Really."

Eli shakes his head as the doors slide open. "No, it was stupid. I'm really sorry."

Peter shrugs and squeezes my arm before leading us through the lobby and out the front door.

It looks like everyone received the memo about meeting in front of the dorm before line-up because there are dozens of people scattered around the lawn and street in front of the building. The graduates are easy to pick out, even the ones I haven't met yet – the black gowns and green stoles make it pretty obvious. There are lots of parent-types and siblings loitering as well. Eli leads us to a small cluster of people and introduces me to his parents and brother. As we all agree we're lucky it's not pouring, Brady strolls up, his family trailing behind him.

I only met Brady quickly, after we arrived on Wednesday - he hadn't been able to go out with us last night - and he was a little strange toward me, but he now he gives me a friendly grin before turning to his parents.

"Mom, Dad, you remember Pete Swan, right? This is his sister, Bella. Bella just graduated from USC. Majored in Biology, headed to Georgetown. That's right, yeah?" Brady looks at me as his parents extend their hands in greeting.

I'm a little surprised he knows this but figure that Peter probably told everyone. "Yes, right." I start to smile at Peter but he's staring at the ground, so I refocus on Brady's parents.

"Los Angeles is quite different from Olympia, Bella," Mr. Vaughn says as he shakes my hand. "Our daughter is interested in USC and some other schools in that area. Would she be able to ask you some questions?"

"Sure, that would be fine. I'm always happy to spread the USC love." I smile at him and look around for Brady's sister.

"Where is Claire, anyway?" Mr. Vaughn scans the crowd behind us.

"Here I am, Dad," comes a voice from behind me. "I was just talking to Lucy." A cute girl with crazy hair like her brother's appears next to Brady.

"How's Lucy?" Mrs. Vaughn asks. "We'll have to say hi to her parents. It's nice they made it all this way."

"She's great. They flew in yesterday. She was just telling me...." Claire's voice fades out as I turn my head and look for "Lucy." The name was familiar immediately and now I want to know if I'm right.

I spot them right away. I have never seen pictures of Jasper's family or even heard descriptions of their physical appearances, but one look at the tall, blond man in the sharp, gray suit and I know he has to be Colonel Whitlock. Jasper and I may have only met once, but that once entailed more than three days under the same roof, numerous conversations, and some pretty intense face-time on that last afternoon. And that doesn't include the time I have spent studying his profile in the photograph from the newspaper. Regardless of everything that had been going on in Forks while we were there, I know I would recognize his chin and the curve of his cheekbones anywhere, even if they are aged over twenty years and topped by a head of close-cropped hair that is darker than Jasper's ash blond.

It's difficult not to stare, although I really try. There are two women standing with Jasper's father. Their backs are to me so I can't see if there is any family resemblance, but I assume that the taller of the two is Jasper's mother and the other is Lucy. Mrs. Whitlock has much fairer hair than does her husband, and Lucy's long curls are almost the same shade as Jasper's blond mess.

I glance around quickly but don't see Jasper anywhere and figure he's probably still up in his room or talking to some other friends. Peter is talking to the guys and their families and I try to keep one ear on their conversation. I'm waiting for Claire to ask about USC, but my nerves are humming and I can't seem to focus on anything but the three people standing together not more than thirty feet away. My heart has started to race, knowing that Jasper is near. It was unavoidable that I would see him, but that doesn't lessen my body's reaction now that I know it is imminent.

"Bella?" A tap on my arm accompanies my name.

I look back to Peter, afraid I've probably missed a question or something. When I turn, his face is tight, and he's staring in the direction of the Whitlocks. He presses his lips together and shifts his gaze to me.

"I don't think so, Bella," he says in a low voice. The tap has turned into his whole hand on my arm.

"What-" I start, but the fierce glare on his face leaves me speechless. Movement behind Peter catches my eye and I look up to see Brady giving me a look that can only be classified as sympathetic. And maybe a little worried.

I'm suddenly very confused. Peter's over-the-top anger and his behavior last night are one thing, but throw in Brady's expression.... This can't all be about some phone calls that happened months ago. Boys don't hold grudges like that, especially not my brother. This makes me more certain that I was right last night to think that Peter knows more than he's let on. And if he does, how did he find out? Did Jasper tell him? There's no way that Peter reacted favorably. Is that what Jasper had wanted to tell me the second time he'd called?

I catch Brady's eye, a shiver of unease running through me. He's watching Peter and me, and I struggle to comprehend that his looks could have _meaning_, but he clearly knows _something_.

I am opening my mouth to ask Peter what's going on when Mrs. Vaughn speaks.

"Oh, there's Jasper now, dear. Weren't you looking for him?"

The hairs along my arms rise at the sound of his name, while Peter's eyes narrow.

"Yeah, I was, Mom. Thanks." Brady sounds reluctant and his eyes flash down to mine before he looks behind me again.

"Fuck," Peter mutters under his breath. He turns from me slightly to address the group around us. "You'll have to excuse us. We're going to head over to the quad now. Our aunt and uncle are supposed to meet us there." He nods to Eli and Brady before sliding an arm around my shoulders. "See you guys in line. Come on, Bells."

"It was nice to meet you all. Claire, find us later and we can talk about schools." I try to keep my voice even and hope that not everything I'm feeling is showing on my face. Everyone agrees to meet back here after the ceremony, and Peter and I start to walk in the direction of the quad. Before we go, I see Brady and Eli share a look.

My heart is trying to tear out of my chest. My leather purse feels slippery under my gripping fingers and I can barely hold onto it because my hands are shaking. Peter is taking purposeful strides, but I falter as we draw away from where Jasper is with his family. I feel like something is pulling at me, trying to force me back to where we'd just been.

"Peter," I say quietly.

"Yes?" His tone matches his hard expression, and he doesn't look down at me.

"Peter, please." I plant my feet and Peter is forced to a stop next to me.

"Bella, don't do this right now, okay?" He lets go of me and drags his hand through his hair. He's still facing the direction in which we were walking, but I tug on the sleeve of his gown and he turns toward me.

"Do what?" I look at him steadily, feeling as if he owes me an explanation, although I'm not quite sure for what or what I'm expecting.

He exhales heavily. "Make a scene. Talk to Jasper. I don't know. Anything. Please, let's just fucking go." His voice is quiet but the words are laden with tension, and his eyes are begging me.

"Fine, but I want to know what's going on, okay? When everything is done. You know Uncle Waylon and Aunt Mary Beth aren't going to be here for at least another twenty minutes."

"Yes, fine." He sighs, his hand in his hair again. "Later." He glances to his left and groans, and I instinctively look where he's looking.

I almost don't register it when Peter wraps his hand around my elbow a second later. I'm sure he's saying things, but they're just a buzz that my brain doesn't interpret into words.

Halfway between where we're standing and where the Whitlocks are still gathered, a bit closer to us than Eli's and Brady's families, is Jasper. He's staring at me, the blue button-down under his unzipped gown is making his eyes so bright and intense that they're clear from here. Brady is standing just behind him and has his hand on Jasper's shoulder, and it looks like Brady is speaking. I wonder if Jasper is hearing his words any more than I am hearing Peter's.

I have to imagine _no_ because I feel like Jasper and I are at opposite ends of a tunnel. It's as if we're back in Forks and just being anywhere near him has made everything else vanish.

Everything in me wants to shake off Peter and run to Jasper. The way Brady seems to be straining and leaning into Jasper makes me think that it's the same for the boy I haven't talked to in eight weeks.

"Isabella, let's _go_." Peter's grip on my elbow is suddenly painful, his words harsh and too loud, and the tunnel disappears.

Jasper frowns as his eyes flicker to Peter and back to me. For a second, I think he is going to break away from Brady and I'm more than a little concerned because it's obvious that whatever is going on with Jasper and my brother is nearly as intense as whatever is going on with Jasper and me.

"Bella-"

"Yes, fine," I snap, whipping my head to glare at Peter. "I get it. Let's _go_."

I almost don't look back at Jasper, afraid that if I do, I won't be able to look away. But as Peter and I turn to resume walking, I can't stop myself from glancing over my shoulder. Jasper is still standing there, Brady is still behind him, and that crazy, strange... _thing_... that has been between us since I first saw him blazes up, almost tangible.

I tear my eyes from his and focus on walking steadily and in a straight line. I'm finally grateful for my brother's vise-grip on my arm because I know that in this moment, it's the only thing keeping me from going back.

And I have a feeling that if I did that, all hell would break loose.

* * *

**Legna betaed and, as always, was very patient and knowledgeable about helping with all things legal.**

**As a note, we made up Jasper and Peter's college.**

**The next chapter will be up on Saturday (2/13).**


	14. The Second I Awake

**The **_**Twilight **_**series is the property of Stephenie Meyer - No copyright infringement is intended. **

**This entire fic is dedicated to JAustenlover.**

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_**The Second I Awake**_

_**~ * ~**_

_**Jasper Whitlock**_

I've just hung up with my mom when Brady walks through my open door. He's wearing his mortarboard and a black t-shirt that says: "I'm ready to get fucked by The Man." It's way too early the morning of our graduation, and I'm trying to muster the energy for all the pomp and circumstance.

I laugh and nod toward his chest. "Your mom seen that?"

"Hah, yeah right. This one's from the private collection. I suppose I have to make myself presentable for when they get here," he says, laughing. "I can't wait 'til this shit is over. I'd pass on the whole thing, but I don't want to make my mom cry."

"She'll probably cry anyway, but yeah, this is part of the passage, buddy. Tassel's supposed to be on the right, by the way." I open my closet and pull out a dress shirt and pants and toss them on the bed. "My parents and sister are still at the hotel, but they'll be here shortly. Yours here yet?"

"They're headed over, too. My sister has already been asking about Lucy. Listen, I just came because I realized I don't have a good tie, you got one I can borrow? Just a solid color. Apparently, I don't wear ties very often."

I reopen my closet and pull out a black tie. "You know you don't have to wear one. I'm not."

"Yeah, I guess I just want to look sharp for my big day. It's taking a lot of self control not to wear a keyboard tie though, I'll admit. Again, we're aiming at not making mom cry. Not sad tears, anyway."

I shake my head and toss him the tie. He nods his thank-you and then he takes a step back toward the door. He stops and lingers in the frame, his face turning serious. "So, uh... You know," he starts, before stepping back inside and closing the door, "that Pete's sister is here, right? As in...in this building. You seen her yet?"

I bristle a little at the mention of her, but I know why Brady is bringing it up. He knows that I talked to Peter about wanting to see her when she got here, and he knows exactly how that talk went. This time there was no physical violence, but I was told to keep my distance. It was the only conversation I'd had with Peter since that night at the bar, and while I fucking hated that our relationship had disintegrated so completely, I couldn't stop myself from pushing it further. I'd hoped that he'd softened a little bit and would at least let me talk to her, but he refused. So, since she arrived the other day, I've made myself scarce, respecting Peter's wishes.

What Brady doesn't know about, or probably Peter either, is the voicemail I got from Bella earlier in the month. I would have told Brady, if anything had come of it, but she was drunk, possibly _very _drunk, when she left it and when I called her back the next day, she didn't pick up and then she never returned my message. Though it was something akin to torture, that voicemail, I listened to it about a thousand times and dissected every word, every breath, every bit of background noise.

"_Jasper, hey. It's Bella. I mean, you probably knew it was me, but just in case you deleted my number or weren't sure, I thought I'd tell you. So, yeah, it's Bella...and I just wanted to call and tell you that I'm sorry I haven't called and I shouldn't even really be calling now, but I was just thinking about you...and I wanted to and...and I really miss you and I'm just sorry that I can't talk to you, but it's...I'm sorry, I think I'm a little drunk, Jasper. I think I need to go back to sleep...Bye, Jasper._"

Before she says goodbye, she sighs, and I've created a whole world around that sigh. That sigh feels like the reason I get out of bed sometimes, because I hear some sort of longing in it. The apologies because she can't talk, because she_ shouldn't _be talking to me...they make me think it's not her choice, or not totally her choice, and they are the reason I talked to Peter...the reason I fucked things up even more with him by asking if I could see her today, if I could talk to her..._anything_. I wonder if, or maybe just hope that, her not calling me back is due to the same reason I haven't been around much since she arrived on campus.

At first, I was angry at Peter for a lot of things, but the more I thought about it, the more I understood him. He found out what happened with Bella and me in Forks in probably the worst possible way, and then he had to deal with it, on top of all the other shit he'd been dealing with. I know that Peter's always been pretty protective of Bella, so I guess it shouldn't have surprised me, the way he flipped out when he found out all this shit was happening behind his back. The only thing I am still angry about is that he told Bella about Maria without even knowing what, if anything, there was to tell, and the idea that he might be keeping her away from me, the way he's keeping me from her. That and the fact that neither of them has given me the opportunity to defend, or at the very least, explain myself.

"Nope. I'm hanging back, as instructed." I try to keep my voice casual, but whenever I think about how close she is, I can feel my anxiety levels rising.

"It's just today, just this morning, and then you're in the clear. You'll be hanging out with your folks this afternoon right?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Yep. I'm getting a big fucking steak dinner for not dying or failing out. I better get back and get ready, I'm meeting my parents on the common. Find us when you find yours, okay?"

"Sounds good, I'll see you in a bit."

"Thanks again for queer-eying me."

I laugh and he salutes me and ducks out, closing the door behind him. I get dressed quickly and at the last minute, I decide to throw on a tie as well. If Brady's wearing one, that probably means I should, too. I put on the green UO tie my mother bought me sophomore year, knowing it'll make her happy to see me finally wearing it. Just as I finish tying it, she calls to let me know they'll be down in front of the building soon. I take one last look in the mirror and push my hair back because I can already hear her telling me to get it out of my eyes and lamenting the length. I almost got it cut before they came, so I wouldn't have to listen to her complain, but I remembered what Bella said about liking it, and I thought if I did happen to run into her...

I shake my head and let the thought die before completion. Right now, I am pretty sure seeing her won't do me any good, even if she likes my fucking hair. I grab the cap and gown off my desk and head into the hall. I start toward the elevators but then stop and turn the other way to head to the stairwell, just in case.

The fire escape opens to the right side of the building and when I turn the corner I spot my family right away, straight ahead at the far end of the common. As I make my way to them, I shrug into my gown and scan the crowd. I hesitate for a second when I see the back of Peter's head, and then my gaze shifts immediately to his right. I see her long, dark hair and almost instantly I can smell it, feel it between my fingers. I'm inordinately pleased to see her in something other than black; her bright blue summery dress looks amazing against her hair and skin. I feel like my brain forms the vision of her quicker than my eyes can even take it all in; I've been picturing her, her every angle and curve, for so long that I could very well be hallucinating.

My heart pounds and I can feel my pulse in my hands and fingers. My tie suddenly feels too tight and my gown feels heavy and too warm. I glance at Peter and he's still facing forward, talking to Eli's and Brady's families. This gives me more time to look at her as I try desperately to keep my feet moving in a straight line toward my family. I need to see her face, I need to touch her, and I'm trying to find some strength somewhere to stop myself. That reserve I've been tapping since I left Forks seems to have unexpectedly run dry at the sight of her. I glance back at my family, and my mother and sister are smiling and waving at me as if they've been trying to call my attention to them, as if they're thinking I've been searching the crowd for them.

Their happy and anxious expressions give me that little bit of strength I'm seeking. I refocus on them and quicken my pace, but it feels like I am walking through mud and the path to Bella is dry land. I rub my hands through my hair and then suddenly I am standing in front of my mother and she's reaching out with both arms. I lean over to hug her and when I pull back she smiles and looks me over.

"Look at you! So handsome. Lucy, take a picture of your brother."

I shake hands with my father and hope he gives me a pass on my clammy palm. He's big on a proper handshake, but maybe he'll think I'm nervous about the ceremony. My mom moves next to me for a photo, but I turn and look back toward Bella, not wanting to lose sight of her for too long in case she disappears again. It's at precisely the wrong time because I make eye contact with Peter, and he doesn't look very fucking happy. We lock eyes for a second before he turns around again.

"Jasper, usually you look at the camera when someone is taking a picture," Lucy whines.

I turn back and I'm not sure if I even smile, but she takes the picture and doesn't complain.

My dad is saying things and I feel like I'm underwater or something because I can't really make any of it out. I turn again and this time I see Peter and Bella walking away from everyone toward the quad, except it looks like Bella is struggling to keep up with him, and his arm is around her shoulders. I don't know if he's pushing her or if I just want to believe that - if I want to believe that she doesn't want to walk away from me. I glance back to where they were standing and Brady is watching me. I can't tell what he's trying to tell me with his expression, all I know is I can feel myself getting angry.

"Jasper, did you want to go talk to your friends? I thought Peter might come over and say hello. Did you want to go talk to him?"

"I, uh...no, Mom, I..." I have no idea what I'm saying to my mother because my attention is bouncing between Peter and Bella and Brady. When I can't stand it anymore I squeeze my mom's shoulder and step away from the three of them. "I'll be right back, okay?" I say as I step backwards in the direction that Peter and Bella are walking. My mom nods but she looks confused. I don't have time to even make something up so I just hold up my index finger to signal that I'll only be a minute, and then I turn and sprint toward the quad.

Pete and Bella have covered considerable ground but they are only walking and I'm jogging now, so I manage to make it more than halfway between them and my parents when I feel a hand grip my shoulder and pull me back.

"Easy, Whitlock. Now is not the time," Brady says, his grip tightening until I come to a full stop.

I just stand for a moment and watch as Bella shakes Peter off and they stop, too. "He's being a dick. I can tell he's being a fucking dick still, Brady."

"I know, but you need to fucking let it go for now, Jasper. You don't want to make a scene, it'll only upset Bella. It's Peter's graduation, too...just let it go for now."

I try to slow my breathing as I watch them talking and then Peter glances toward Brady and me. A second later Bella's gaze follows his, and whatever I had left in me...whatever resistance or self-control, just seems to evaporate. I see her face for the first time in months and it just fucking kills me and fills my heart up simultaneously. Brady continues to try and talk me down, but like before with my father, I don't register a single word.

My eyes travel over her body quickly and land on Peter's hand wrapped around her elbow. I look back up at her and I can't possibly believe I am imagining the look in her eyes. I can't tell if it's pleading or apologizing, but whatever it is, it doesn't say "stay away." I feel my face heat up because it doesn't make sense; her actions, or lack thereof, over the last eight weeks completely contradict what I see in her expression. And then I remember the last voicemail.

Peter's voice is raised and while I'm not really paying attention to him either, I look at him and frown because he's really starting to piss me off. I look back at Bella and I just need her to tell me that she wants me to go over there. I feel myself leaning forward, prepared to take the first step, when she turns back to Peter.

"Just turn around, man. Your fucking family is here, watching. Do you want to explain this? Just let him have today."

I know Brady is right, but I'm just so fucking weak right now. I'm exhausted and there's no fight left. I just want to give in and I want her to give in, and I don't give a fuck about anything else. Bella glances over her shoulder and my pulse reacts instantly, but all too quickly I'm looking at the back of her head again as Peter guides her toward the quad.

I feel Brady's hand on my bicep and he tugs, trying to nudge me in the direction of my family. "C'mon, let's go."

I give in and let him lead me back for a second before I shake his arm off. "All right, I'm going. Just get the fuck off." I move quickly past him and don't bother looking back. I feel like shit for taking my frustration out on him, and I understand that he's trying to help, but right now I don't want anyone touching me, don't want anyone talking to me. I just want to get my diploma and get the fuck out of Washington.

When I get back to my parents and sister, my mom is looking even more confused than before. Lucy rolls her eyes, the understanding teenager that she is, and my father steps forward.

"Everything all right, son?" His tone isn't one of concern. He's not asking about my feelings and he doesn't want an explanation. He's telling me to step in line.

"Yeah, sorry, just a misunderstanding, sir," I offer, my lame attempt at a casual brush-off.

"Should we head over now?" my mother asks, seemingly placated.

"Yeah, let's go."

As we head toward the quad, I look over to see Brady and his family several yards away, walking in the same direction. He offers me a half-smile and it seems as though he's not holding any sort of a grudge against me for my foul attitude a few minutes ago. I return as much of the smile as I can muster and then turn to face forward again.

During the ceremony, I turn several times to scan the audience in search of Bella, but I can't find her amongst the rows of parents, siblings and friends. At the end of our row, Brady leans forward and gives me a pointed look, so I make a conscious effort not to turn again. However, I can't turn my mind off, and it replays the scene on the common over and over. I'm trying to imagine what would have happened if Brady hadn't held me back, when I hear the name Swan called and my attention snaps to the stage. As I watch Peter cross the stage, the expression on his face does not match those of our classmates who walked before him. The dean shakes his hand firmly and then leans into him slightly, and his lips move quickly. Peter nods and blinks a few times, and as I realize how hard this must be for him, I'm thankful that Brady managed to stop me earlier.

Several minutes later, my row has apparently stood to walk to the stage as our names are called. The person to my left nudges me and I'm jolted back to reality as she whispers a reminder that I need to start walking. When I'm up on stage, shaking the dean's hand and accepting the empty diploma cover, there's only one pair of eyes I can feel on me. I look over the audience quickly as I walk off stage, but again, I can't spot her. I try hard not to fidget and to maintain my focus for the rest of the ceremony, and at the end, when everyone throws their caps into the air, I weave my way through the mass of black, toward the main building before the mortarboards even land. I'm way ahead of the rest of the crowd when I hear heavy footsteps approaching.

"J, wait up," Brady calls. I stop and turn and he catches up to me quickly. "Listen, I'm sorry about earlier, I just-"

I cut him off before he can apologize further. "No, it's all right. I'm really fucking glad you stopped me, Brady. I just...I wasn't thinking."

He nods and we continue walking toward the building, at a slower pace than I was moving before. "Are you going to try and see her today?"

I sigh and rub my elbow; all the tension from the day has made it tighten and ache. "I don't know. I...I don't think I will, at least not intentionally. As pissed off as I am at him, I just...I can't do that to Peter. It's a really fucking hard day for him and I don't want to make it worse. It'd all probably backfire. She has my number, she could call me if she wanted to see me. The ball has been in her court for a while now."

I don't know how true it is, how free she feels to call me, but I know that either way, we're both letting Peter call the shots today.

"That's probably a good idea, even if it sucks. I'm sorry, J, I didn't know how serious it was."

"I feel like I didn't, either. It's the first time I've seen her since Forks."

He nods, and we've pretty much reached our limits in terms of talking about serious shit like this, so we walk silently into the main building, heading toward a room with a "U, V, W" sign posted on the door, to pick up our actual diplomas. After I get mine, I wait for Brady to get his and then we walk back out, to head back to the common and meet up with our folks again.

Just before we split, Brady slaps my back and then lets his hand drop to his side. "Congrats, Whitlock, we made it. Try to enjoy it. You never know, Peter may still cool off after all this craziness dies down. Give it some more time."

I nod, even though I feel less and less hopeful of that happening with each passing day. Especially since I'm heading back to Texas in a few days for a few weeks, to get my shit in order and to attend Lucy's high school graduation. "Yeah, congratulations, Brady. Enjoy the steak. I'll call you later."

"You better. We're getting crazy drunk tonight. I might make good on that whole dying thing after all."

I laugh and then turn to head over to my family. I talk with them for a few minutes before I excuse myself momentarily to head back up to my dorm to change so that we can go out for lunch. When I get back down to the common, there are still a lot of families lingering and talking. Because I'm a glutton for punishment, I look for her again, half hoping I'll get to see her just one more time, but she and Peter are nowhere to be found.

~ * ~

Two days later, I am standing in Sea-Tac airport at 10:00 a.m. with a hangover that feels like the culmination of every night I spent drinking over the last four years. I never saw Bella after the moment on the common before grad, and I told myself that I didn't really expect to, although the amount I've had to drink in the past couple of days indicates that I may have possibly been lying to myself. But as I scan the departures board to find my flight, I feel something akin to relief, hoping that being away from Washington will help keep my mind off Bella and the mess I've made with Peter.

I readjust the duffel bag, which is my only luggage, on my shoulder; the rest of my stuff is stored in boxes in my car in Brady's garage. I find Dallas-Fort Worth on the board and commit the gate number to memory. I have a one-hour stopover in Dallas before continuing on to Killeen-Fort Hood Regional, and I'm hoping I'll manage some sleep on the long flight there. I stare at the list of flights for another moment until my eyes land on a flight to Washington, D.C., and I remember that Bella should be heading there soon, if she hasn't already. I try to stomp down the acidic mixture of emotions that thought causes to rise in my chest, the strongest of which is concern for how she is coping with a move across the country all by herself.

Selfishly, I can only hope that being separated by an entire country will make the loss of her easier for me. Maybe the impossibility of our situation will somehow make it all easier to swallow. I continue to tell myself that as I head into the terminal, looking forward, at the very least, to the Texan heat and sun and a reprieve from this particularly wet and dreary Pacific Northwest spring.

I do manage to get the sleep I was hoping for on the flight, and wake up just before we land in Dallas. I grab something to eat in the terminal before making my way to the gate for my final flight. The plane to Fort Hood is much smaller than the one we took from Seattle, and there's turbulence almost the entire flight, followed by a particularly bumpy landing. When I arrive in the baggage claim area, I'm feeling pretty haggard and looking forward to my bed. The first thing I notice, other than my complete exhaustion, is that the air already smells different, even indoors. It's balmy but not damp like up north, and I can almost smell the sun. I look around at the travelers collecting their bags and spot my mother, waving wildly, as if she hadn't seen me just a couple days ago. They all had to head back the morning after graduation because my dad had to work and Lucy had some school thing, but I chose to stay a couple more days so I'd have time to pack up stuff and get it over to Brady's.

I make my way to them and give my mom a hug. I nod to Lucy, who pretends to be apathetic about my return home, but I know that secretly she's thrilled to have someone in the house who isn't a parent and who's old enough to buy beer.

When we walk out the doors and into the sun, I feel a bit of the weight of the past couple months lift from my shoulders. Texas feels like a world away from Washington, and I look forward to immersing myself back into the life I had before Bella, even if it's only for a few short weeks. I know that I'm not escaping anything, that it'll all be waiting for me when I head back to Seattle, where I should have been apartment and job hunting with Peter, but for now I'm just grateful to be in a place that reminds me of neither of them.

Several of my friends from high school are back home as well, either for good or just for the summer while they make plans for the next stage of their lives. I spend most of my time here hanging out with them, sleeping, or browsing Seattle job boards online. All of this provides a pretty decent distraction, most of the time, but there is still a lot of downtime, and I find that just like in Washington, Bella is still the last thing on my mind before I fall asleep at night, and the first thing when I wake up in the morning.

By the last week in June, as I pack a few suitcases full of the stuff I want to have with me in Seattle, I realize that I've really managed to escape from very little here. Unfortunately, my obsessive thoughts travel well, and have accompanied me every step of the way on this trip, even if they're just running in the background.

I've never really been bothered by uncertainty before. Growing up with a father in the military, we moved a lot and I was okay with not knowing what lay even just six months ahead, and with the idea that just as I got comfortable somewhere, it was very possible that's exactly when it would be time to move on again. But now, with no job, no apartment, no roommate, and no definite future plans, I'm starting to feel completely lost, and it's a very unsettling emotion.

For the first time in four years, I find myself wondering what Seattle even has to offer me anymore. I decide that if I'm going to be happy there, I at least need to make another attempt to mend my relationship with Peter. If I can at least manage that, maybe I can start to deal with everything that has happened between Bella and me.

I resolve to call Peter when I get back and see if he'll be willing to meet up. Until then, I decide I need to just let everything go for a little bit, and try to enjoy my last days at home, before I travel back to the great big unknown.

* * *

**Legna betaed it all. The next chapter will be up on Sunday (2/14). **

**We have decided to post the remaining chapters on an accelerated schedule. We anticipate posting every other day until the story is complete.**


	15. The Turning

**The **_**Twilight **_**series is the property of Stephenie Meyer - No copyright infringement is intended. **

**This entire fic is dedicated to JAustenlover.**

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* * *

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_**The Turning**_

_**~ * ~**_

_**Jasper Whitlock**_

Brady picks me up at the airport on Sunday, and I'm grateful to be greeted by a familiar face. I was having pretty mixed emotions about returning to Seattle, and heading into the city alone on my first day back probably would have made everything worse.

On the ride to his place, he fills me in on what he's been up to since I've been gone, which has mostly been partying, since he starts a new job on the 28th and he figures he'll have to hunker down and be a responsible adult after that.

"I can't believe you're going to be a financial analyst," I say, shaking my head. "You're going to have to wear a suit. You're probably going to have cut your hair."

"Suit, yes. Hair, no fucking way. Corporate America is not getting their hands on my luscious locks. They can deal."

"Do you feel like you're ready for all of this?" I ask, amazed that Brady's job title is suddenly making me feel like a directionless loser.

"Hell no. I still laugh when I think of my job title, because it contains the word 'anal.' Whatever, we knew it was coming."

"I guess. Now I just feel totally behind. I don't even have a place to live."

"Well, you've got my place for now, and my mom makes a mean lasagna, so there's that. And you've got some leads on apartments that you are gonna check out, right? And sports jobs aren't as easy to come by as finance jobs, J, but I'm sure something will come up. When you're general manager of the Yankees and I'm in jail for fraud, you'll be laughing your ass off at me."

"I'll bail you out and hire you a good lawyer, don't worry."

"If you're interested in work outside of your major, I can pass you a few contacts. Think you might be interested in an Anal-ist position?"

"Depends on the company."

"Well, if you're lucky, we'll end up in the same department."

I'm relieved when we turn onto Brady's street before he can continue that exchange and push the envelope further, as he often likes to do.

As he pulls into the driveway he turns to me, his jovial expression now replaced with one of concern. "Any word from Peter or Bella?"

I shake my head. "Nothing. Not that I expected anything. I am going to try and call Peter when I get settled a bit and see if he'll meet up with me. I'll see how it goes with him before I even think about contacting Bella. I don't know...I haven't heard from her at all. After all the stuff at graduation, it just makes me think that ship has sailed."

"Yeah, well, you haven't contacted her either, though."

"But I did, several times before that. I'm not gonna fucking beg, Brady. If she doesn't want to see me or speak to me, I have to respect that."

He shrugs and then pushes open his door and gets out of the car. "You know how girls are though. They like begging," he says as he pops the trunk and starts to pull out my suitcases. I want to argue that Bella's personality cannot, and should not, be reduced and compared to the average girl's, but I don't bother because I know Brady will just roll his eyes.

I give him a hand, and once everything is unloaded, we bring them into the garage and stack them next to my car - all except the duffel bag, which has my clothes and shower stuff.

"Well, good luck with Pete. I saw him a few times while you were gone. We didn't talk about all this shit, really, but I get the feeling he's not as angry anymore. He was mostly caught up with the job stuff, the legal stuff, and with his sister's move."

"Fuck, I don't even know what's been going on with all the legal stuff." I still feel weird that I know so little about what's been going on with Peter since we stopped talking.

"Not a whole hell of a lot. I think they cut a deal with the minor who was involved. He got a couple years and a fine. I think it was like second degree manslaughter. He's going to testify against the other two, but they don't have a trial date yet. Pete said they're going for Murder One for the other two, among other things, like weapons charges and shit. The guy who shot him is fucked, that's for sure."

I nod but I'm unsure what to say. I felt like I was so entrenched in everything when we were in Forks, and now I'm getting third party reports. I feel like shit that I'm not hearing this from Peter, but more so that he has to deal with all of this stuff in the first place. I also wonder how much Bella has been involved in the trial stuff, and how she's handling it.

At Brady's initial words about Peter not being as angry, I feel a tinge of hope at the idea that he might be more receptive to talking to me now, but hearing about them all hanging out while I was gone, and realizing that I have no idea what is going on with Pete's life, bothers me more than I expected it to.

"C'mon," Brady says, as he pulls the garage door shut. "Let us go drink many beers before you start all that getting a life stuff. Oh and uh," he frowns for a second before continuing, "do I need to tell you to keep your hands off my sister?" He's laughing before he even finishes the sentence and I punch him hard in the arm.

"Dude, she's almost the same age as Lucy, you asshole. That's fucking gross."

Brady chuckles and rubs his arm. "Gives you new sympathy for Pete, don't it?"

I cringe when I realize there's a tiny bit of validity to his point. I'm glad he says it, though, because it occurs to me that before I talk to Pete, I need to find a way to explain things to him in a way that will make him understand the reasons why it is, or was, different with Bella.

~ * ~

I spend the first couple days applying for jobs online, talking with some headhunters, and searching for an apartment to short-term sublet. I have no idea how the job search is going to pan out, or where I'll end up working if I do find one, so I decide to stick with short-term housing until some of those questions are answered. On Wednesday morning, I manage to find a pretty nice bachelor apartment in Belltown, on Craigslist. The landlady's preference is to rent out in short chunks, two weeks to a month at a time, since she has children and family that often use it when they come to visit. It's perfect for me, it's fully furnished, and the rent is insanely good for the area.

My luck on the job front is not so plentiful. Most of the headhunters I talk to all give me the same speech - that sports, in any capacity, is a tough industry to break into, and particularly when I need to be making more than peanuts for a starting salary. Many positions are merely internships to start, and though I'd be willing to go that route if I had to, I figure I might as well try for a little while to find an actual paying job, first. I do get a call back from the Seattle Mariners, in response to one of my online applications, but when I go to the interview on Thursday afternoon, I find out the position is not much more than a glorified administrative assistant, with a deceptive title. I'd sooner take one of those analyst jobs than begin my career washing jock straps after earning a college degree.

I try not to get too disheartened by the job market in Seattle, especially since I just started looking. I always figured it might take some time, and I have a decent amount of money in my savings account to keep me afloat for a while. I also remind myself that there's pretty much nothing tying me down to Seattle right now, and I can always expand my job search out a bit if nothing is biting here.

On Sunday, Brady helps me move my stuff to the new place, and then we go for a beer at one of the pubs close to the apartment. He leaves early because he has to start work the next morning. When I get home, I start thinking that I might just be the perfect level of drunk to finally make the call to Peter. It's the one I've been avoiding since I got back a week ago.

I collapse on the couch and pull my phone from my pocket. I kick my shoes off and put my feet on the coffee table and scroll through my contacts. I pause momentarily on Bella's name before moving along to Peter's. I stare at it for a long-ass time before I finally just say, "fuck it," and press the "call" button. I realize that he has caller ID and will likely not pick up, so as it rings, I try to think of what I'll say on his voicemail.

_"Hello?"_

I don't even fully register that he's actually answered, and I sort of wait for the rest of the voicemail message. "Uh, hey," I finally force out when I realize there's not going to be a beep.

_"Jasper?"_

"Yeah, hey, it's me. Are you in the middle of something?"

_"No, I...no,"_ he says, and I'm not sure if he's done or if he's just pausing.

There's an awkward silence, so I decide to fill it, quickly. "Listen, I was wondering if we could talk. Preferably face to face. Do you have some time to meet up...soon?"

He exhales loudly into the phone and then speaks after too long of a pause. _"Yeah, I can do that. When? I probably can't meet until Tuesday, at the earliest."_

"Tuesday is fine, I can do any time on Tuesday."

_"Okay, where?_"

"Well, I'm staying in Belltown right now. You could come to my place, or I can come to yours, if you prefer. Up to you. Probably better for us to meet...not at a bar."

He chuckles quietly and agrees. _"Your place is fine, I work near there anyway. I can come by around six, if that's good with you."_

"Yeah, six is fine." I give Peter the address, and after we say goodbye, I hang up and toss the phone on the couch cushion next to me.

His tone throughout the entire call was flat, but he was speaking to me, and he agreed to meet up, and that feels like a huge deal. Still, I caution myself not to be overly optimistic because there's still a pretty good possibility that things won't get resolved. This conversation won't be about me apologizing for what happened with Bella in Forks. I will apologize for keeping shit from him and for the timing of it all, but I have no plans to back down about wanting to talk to Bella again. If he still plans to keep me away from her, we'll be at an impasse all over again.

~ * ~

I'm sitting on the couch at 6:30 on Tuesday night, trying to focus on the television and not on the clock. Peter was supposed to be here half an hour ago, and though I'm really trying not to act like a girl waiting for a date to show up, I can't help but feel discouraged with each passing minute. It makes sense, really. I probably blindsided him with my call and he hastily agreed to talk to me, and then as he thought about it more and more, he probably realized that nothing would come of it and changed his mind. I've been going through the same thing in the hours since we spoke, going from hopeful and cautiously optimistic to all but certain this would be another conversation that would end in a fight: very possibly a physical one.

At 6:45, I get up to get a beer and there's a knock on the door. Part of me is seriously relieved, and the other part of me is praying it's a neighbor or someone with the wrong address. I check the peephole and see Peter through the fisheye, running his hands through his hair.

Taking a deep breath, I draw back the chain lock and deadbolt and open the door. Peter nods and then shifts his weight. "Hey."

"Hey, come on in."

I stand aside and he takes a tentative step forward and looks around for a moment before walking all the way in.

"Beer?" I ask, heading toward the fridge to get one for myself.

"Uh, yeah, sure, if you're having one."

I nod and pull two bottles from the fridge. I pop the caps off using the edge of the counter and remind myself that I need to get a bottle opener. I hand him a bottle and he follows me over to the TV area, where we sit; he on the couch and I in the chair next to it.

We both take long pulls on our beer and I figure that since I invited him, I probably have to be the first to speak. I'm trying to think of how to start when he says, "Sorry I'm late. My boss doesn't get the whole nine-to-five thing sometimes."

I know Peter's not here to exchange mindless pleasantries, but it feels so strange to me that I don't know about his job that I have to ask. "So, you're working?"

"Yeah, at a sports med place here in Belltown. It's just an internship, I'm working for one of the sports psychologists. I decided about five minutes after graduating that I probably want to just start my masters in the fall. I hate the thought of being in school again so soon, but I want to get it over with. It's only been a couple weeks and I'm already tired of being an intern."

"Sports psychology. That's pretty awesome."

"Yeah, I, uh, I looked to see if they had anything there that you could do. It's all internships right now, though, unless you want to be a receptionist."

I laugh. "I interviewed for something this week that was practically that, although the job posting was pretty misleading." I'm surprised to hear that Peter looked for something for me at the place he was working. It's definitely not something I would have expected to hear, and it makes me feel a tiny bit more optimistic about the conversation we're about to have.

"It's a tough market..." It sounds almost like he has more to say but he trails off and doesn't pick back up again.

Not wanting to deal with any awkward silences, I take another quick gulp of beer and decide to dive right in. "Pete, it's fucking weird that I don't know this stuff. That I don't know where you live or what you do, or that you were planning on going back to school in the fall."

He nods and his eyes look a little glassy. "Yeah, yeah, I know. It's just..."

I wait for him to finish but he doesn't, he just stares into his beer bottle. "I really want to get past this, Peter."

He takes a deep breath and then sighs heavily, exactly like he did so many times while we were in Forks. "I do, too. I've tried...I mean...I'm sorry I punched you in the face."

I'm tempted to make a joke about how it didn't really hurt, but I figure it won't go over well. And it did hurt, and not just my face. "It's...whatever. It happens. I probably deserved it."

"Nah, that was just...that was shitty. I was just so angry. I'd had these suspicions for so long, and then... and then when they were basically confirmed, the anger just got out of control. I just let it fucking fester for a while, too. But it's Bella, you know...and after everything...I mean your timing was so fucking bad."

I deposit the beer bottle on the coffee table and lean forward. "Don't you get it, Pete? It wasn't _my_ timing. It just happened. I wasn't timing anything. Don't you think if I had some control over it, I would have exercised it?"

"I don't know what you're implying. I mean, what do you mean you didn't have control? What, are you saying it was love at first sight or something? You don't...I mean, even if you were saying that...what you did is hardly fucking romantic."

I put my elbows on my knees and drop my head into my hands. I'm trying to think of a way to explain this and it's almost impossible because I really don't want to talk to Pete about having sex with his sister, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to hear about it. But at the same time, I can't let him think that it was just because we were...horny...or something. "I know you don't get it, and you don't want to hear about it, and I don't blame you. But it wasn't...it wasn't how it seemed. She was so upset...and I just..." I trail off, realizing I just have no idea how to explain what happened in a way that he'll be okay with hearing.

"So, that's how you comfort someone who's upset?"

I can hear the tone his voice change and I can tell he's getting angry again. I don't want this conversation to go in the wrong direction but at the same time, I have no idea how to stop it or turn it around. "Peter, I didn't fucking initiate it. And I tried to stop it." It's not what I want to tell him, really, but it just comes out.

"Oh, so Bella raped you, then?" he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Fuck, you know what, Peter? This is actually none of your fucking business. It was between Bella and me, and she's a fucking adult, so I am not sure why exactly I have to justify this to you. Did she complain to you?"

"No...but-"

"So, then tell me how the fuck it's any of your goddamn business." I don't know where the anger comes from, but it's very real and burns white hot.

He slams his bottle down on the table and stands up. "Because she's my fucking sister, and our fucking father is dead, and I have to take care of her. And all of this is so fucking wrong. Even if you guys did like each other, what, are you going to date from opposite sides of the country? And what if it doesn't work? Now I have to lose a fucking friend? And how could she even know how she felt, she was fucking freshly grieving when she met you. She wasn't fucking thinking logically, and so I have to do it for her because if she gets hurt then I'm the one who has to watch it, Jasper, not you. Fuck!" He rubs across his eyes with the base of his palm. "If you hurt her, I'll have to be there to watch it and you won't, and I'll have to fucking hate you for it."

I feel like I know what I want to say but it's all coming into my head at once and I can't pull apart the words. I watch Pete as he paces in front of the table, and I want to comfort my friend but I don't know what to do for him. He's so much more fucked up than he realizes, and I'm not even sure logic is going to work.

"Pete, what is happening now? You've already pretty much lost me, by your own choice, and Bella's still hurting, or at least I'm pretty sure she is." I want to add that I wouldn't really fucking know because she won't return my calls, but I doubt it'll garner much sympathy from him right now. "And if you keep trying to dictate what happens in her life, she's going to fucking resent you, too. You can't protect her from everything, Peter. Your dad couldn't do that either, and he wouldn't expect you to."

"Yeah, but I can protect her from guys who-" He stops short and seems to be searching for the right wording.

I know what he wants to say so I finish for him. "Guys who fuck their TAs for good grades? Guys who have threesomes with their TA and their fucking profs? You think that's what happened?"

He shrugs and sits back down on the couch. "I don't see why _all _of that would be made up for no reason."

It's probably useless now, but I figure I might as well explain things to him. I resent having to do so, but if it gets me closer to being able to clear things up with Bella, it's worth it. "It's not all made up. Some of it's true. I was sleeping with her, but it wasn't for fucking grades. In fact, she was fucking harder on me because of it, and she fucked up my GPA that semester.

"I was sleeping her because I thought we were in a relationship, and I thought I was in love with her. Well, I probably was in love with her, but I thought she was in love with me, too. I found out she was fucking Professor Swift when the rest of the student body did. I never would have shared Maria, and if I had, it would not have been with that ugly old bastard. I didn't ever talk about it because I was fucking embarrassed. When I asked her about it, she just acted like it was no big thing, like I was a fucking child for caring. I felt so fucking stupid that when people would ask me about her and him, I'd just shrug it off and act like I had known all along, like I didn't care. Obviously it backfired, but I didn't owe anyone an explanation. I don't think I really even owe _you_ one. Even if all of that was true, you know me, Peter. You know me better than pretty much anyone else does. How could you think that I wouldn't be okay for Bella?"

I'm surprised when I actually feel relieved after I finish my little monologue. It feels good to defend myself for once, and to be able to admit the truth without feeling as shitty about it as I used to. In fact, aside from my annoyance at Peter's willingness to believe the rumors, I am almost completely unfazed. The look of embarrassment that colors Pete's expression is admittedly a little gratifying.

"I didn't realize..." He grabs his bottle off the table but instead of taking a drink, he picks at the label. "Why didn't you just tell me all that before?"

"Because I was really fucking bitter and embarrassed about it for a long time. And I didn't know how much you even knew. I mean, Christ, Peter, it's not like they wrote an article about it in the school paper. It was gossip, and I didn't realize you were so tapped in. I certainly didn't think you'd just believe it all, or fucking hold it against me."

His eyes snap to mine when I say it, and he shakes his head. "I didn't hold it against you. I didn't even care, or at least I thought I didn't. I mean, I guess if anything I just thought you were kind of a pimp." He chuckles darkly and continues. "Fuck, it's not even about that, J. I mean, not originally anyway. When I realized you were talking and when I...when I went back to Forks...I just got really fucking offended that you guys would keep that shit from me. It made it seem really shady. And then the more I thought about it, the more it bothered me. When I finally asked Bella about it and she admitted you were talking, it just...it just came out. I felt like I just needed reasons...And then it just became real. Like, I really started to believe all the stuff I'd heard."

I stare into my beer for a long time, unsure of how to continue. On the one hand, I'm glad that his meddling wasn't solely because he thought I was a creep, but on the other hand, it feels like he fucked things up irrevocably because of it. I finish the last of the beer and then I get up to get two more. Peter watches me, waiting for my response, as I return to the couch and put the bottles on the table.

"We should have told you. But you know we could never have told you everything. Fuck, I don't think either of us understood it ourselves, and we never talked about it, either. And I wanted to leave it up to Bella, to tell you about us talking. I didn't want to put any pressure on her, and I didn't even know how she felt about it. She was upset, Peter, and she needed someone to talk to. I'm not even sure why she chose me, but I'm really glad she did."

"Exactly. She chose to talk to _you._"

I shake my head. "It's different. Peter, she talked to you, too. But maybe she just needed someone more removed, and you're going through the same shit - plus all the legal stuff. Maybe she just didn't want to add more worries to your pile. And what about Lauren, huh? You're telling me you didn't like her taking care of you after all of that?"

He smiles, and it's a familiar Peter-smile, not a strained, awkward, or dripping-with-sarcasm smile. "I guess..."

"I would never hurt her, Pete. All this shit that happened between us has happened because I was going out of my way _not _to hurt her. I don't want to lose you as a friend, and don't want to make you fucking uncomfortable, but I also can't say that if she called me right now I'd hang up the phone. I wouldn't. But you might be lucky, because she won't talk to me anymore, so probably all of this is a non-issue now."

"I don't think I'll be quite that lucky," he says and then sighs heavily. Before I can ask for clarification, he offers it. "I talked to her the other day. I mean, I'm not saying she's picking out wedding dresses and shit, but I know she's not...over you…or whatever. I'm pretty sure the only reason she stopped calling was because I made her feel like shit about all of this."

I remind myself that Peter is making a concession here, and that he's telling me this because he feels guilty about it. It helps keep the anger at bay. What also helps is the idea that Bella isn't _over me, _as Peter put it, and the firm knowledge that it was he who has kept her from contacting me. I suddenly remember what hope feels like.

"I knew I was fucked at graduation, when you two saw each other, but I just couldn't get over being angry, and then I just made it worse," he adds.

"Why do you keep acting like this is something we are purposely doing _to _you?"

"I know, I know it's not, okay? But you have to empathize a bit, I mean, imagine if it was Lucy and me-"

I wrap my thumb around the neck of my beer bottle and bring my index fingers to my ears before cutting him off. "Ah, ah, ah, okay, I get it. I get it."

I am hoping someday everyone can stop drawing on Lucy as an example. I get that no one wants to think about his sister having sex, but it hardly seems fair to throw one's sister in his face just to make a point.

"Yeah, I guess I probably should have used that method to deal with all this shit instead. It was mostly the timing, J. If it was under different circumstances, I'd like to think I wouldn't have been such a dick about it."

The feeling I have right now cannot be merely described as relief. The past nearly three months have been something close to pure misery, and to have so much of it lifted in one night leaves me feeling almost overwhelmed. I think I might have my friend back, and if I'm not imagining things, I think he may have told me that Bella isn't a lost cause either. And on top of that, I think he might actually stop trying to fuck it all up.

I try to find something to say, something that will sum everything up and put some closure to this rift, but then I think it just may be better to quietly accept everything that has happened in the last few months and move on from here. There are a million things that I can say next, but I keep landing on just one, and I hope it doesn't jeopardize the delicate ceasefire we've just declared.

"I think I need to see her."

Pete just stares at me for a moment before he blows out a breath and then leans forward. He rests his elbows on his knees and nods slowly. He looks a little defeated, but somehow, not in a bad way. Maybe it's just false hope, but it almost seems though he's relieved to just let go.

"I can give you her address. I think she'd probably like that."

* * *

**Happy Valentine's Day! And Arizona Statehood Day, too :)**

**Legna betaed it all. The next chapter will be up on Tuesday (2/16). **


	16. Oceans

**The **_**Twilight **_**series is the property of Stephenie Meyer - No copyright infringement is intended. **

**This entire fic is dedicated to JAustenlover.**

**Timeline confusion warning: this chapter has a time overlap with chapter 15.**

**

* * *

**_**Oceans**_

_**~ * ~**_

_**Bella Swan**_

"Hey, Bella!" A knock accompanies the voice calling my name, and I look up to see Jane poking her head through my partially open door. "Alec brought the AC unit. Is now a good time?"

I don't have to mime pushing back my sweaty hair as I slide from the bed, because I really do. Damp strands are plastered to my forehead, and I twist the whole mess into a pseudo-ponytail as I stand up. There are a lot of things I love about my new room, house, and city, but the wicked humidity and oppressive summer heat are not included. "Yes, now is fantastic. Thank you!"

Jane pushes my door open the rest of the way and enters the room, and her brother follows, carrying a big AC window unit.

"This is so great, Jane. Are you sure your parents don't mind?"

"Nope, they don't care. This has been sitting in the basement for years. It doesn't have all of the fancy stuff like a remote control or digital read out, but it should get the job done."

As I point Alec to the window, I eye the old unit and imagine sleeping in a room that isn't eighty-five degrees. "I don't care if I have to feed quarters into it. As long as it blows air that's cooler than what I exhale, it's perfect."

I help Jane clear away the books that are on the low bookcase below the window so that Alec can get to it without knocking anything over. I open the window wide, and Jane holds back the curtains as he slides the unit into place.

A few minutes later, he has it plugged in and turned on, and I have to keep myself from pressing myself to the front of it. Naked.

"Okay, here's your basic power, your fan and cool settings, all of that. It's pretty easy. Do you have any questions?" Alec is watching me intently as he talks and presses buttons on the front of the unit. Jane's parents live a couple of hours away, up in Northern Maryland, and Alec lives and practices law up in Baltimore, but he's been at the house several times since I moved in almost five weeks ago. He's very interesting, and we usually spend some time talking about news or politics while he's around. I've never been much of a politics girl, but I'm quickly discovering that it's hard not to be when you're living in the nation's capital.

It wasn't until Alec left a couple of weekends back and Heidi, one of our other housemates, came to me giggling about how Alec was looking at me that I even really noticed that he was paying more attention to me than he was to Heidi or our other housemate. "I think he likes you!" Heidi had whispered while Jane was outside saying good-bye to Alec. The next time he had come over, the following weekend, I'd paid closer attention to how he interacted with me and realized that Heidi might be onto something. He hadn't acted on it in any way, yet, but as he looms above me now, explaining the AC unit, I think about what I might say if he were to ask me out.

It would be nice to start this new part of my life on an entirely new foot. I have a new job, new friends, new living arrangements, new clothes, new _everything_. A new boyfriend – someone to show me around the city and take me to clubs and the Kennedy Center and museums – would be like icing on the cake. And Alec... well, it would be difficult to complain about the thick dark hair and striking dark eyes, or the muscles that had flexed in his arms as he'd hefted the AC unit into the window; he is older and lethally intelligent and can certainly hold his own during a conversation....

But I already know that we don't like much of the same music, that our tastes in movies are different, that his recreational sport of preference to play is tennis, not soccer. And how would he react if he had to see me at my worst?

At the thought of going on a date with him... I have nothing. I feel nothing. No tingle of excitement. No giddy anticipation. Nothing but a tight pang in my chest, which I try to ignore but can't.

The immediate reaction I'd had to Jasper... the connection I think we share – or _shared – _makes me wonder if my baseline has been reset and if I'll always expect that kind of emotional and physical response now.

So, my first instinct is that I'd give Alec a big, fat resounding _no_.

It's my second instinct, as well.

I vaguely consider how I'll deal with it if Jasper has ruined me for other guys.

"We're going out tonight, Bella. Are you in? We'll just head down the street."

I look from the control panel on the AC to Jane, who's watching me expectantly. I had planned to stay in tonight and catch up on some reading for work. The house we're in, which I had been very lucky to find, is in a great location. We're only a twenty-minute walk – or an even shorter cab ride if we've had too much to drink or it's really late – from a whole bunch of clubs and bars, and Jane likes to take advantage of them whenever she can. I've already been out a few times with her, her boyfriend, Felix, and our other housemates, and I've had a decent time, but this weekend, I think I'd prefer a little solitude.

"I think I'll probably just hang here for the evening, catch up on a little reading" – I point to the stack of medical journals on my desk – "and enjoy my newfound status as one of the adequately cooled."

Jane looks doubtful and a little disappointed, and glances up at Alec for a moment. "Are you sure? Even for a little while? I'm sure Alec would be willing to walk you home early if you get bored."

I look up at Alec and he grins, his teeth extra-white against his tan. "That would not be a problem. We could bail whenever you're ready."

I smile at Alec and hope it looks genuine, before turning back to Jane. "I'm sure. You guys go ahead, though." I shrug and smile, kicking off my flip-flops and grabbing the stack of journals before flopping onto my bed.

"Okay. I'll check on you once more before we go, in case you change your mind." Jane waves and turns toward the door.

"It was nice to see you again, Bella. Are you coming out for the fireworks next weekend?"

I nod even though the thought of so many people crowding and jostling for comfortable lawn seats for the fireworks makes my skin crawl a little bit. "I think so. Probably."

"Great." He flashes me another brilliant smile. "Let me know if you have any problems with that thing, okay?" He points to the window. "Obviously Jane has my number in case you need to call."

I pull my pillow forward and prop myself up on it as I open one of the journals. Biology and biochemistry articles aren't necessarily my idea of the best way to spend a Saturday afternoon and evening, but at least for today, reading sounds better than getting dressed up, drunk, and dancing until two in the morning, and I have to do it sometime.

I'm halfway through a dense article when my phone rings. I search under the journals for it and pull it out before it rings a third time. The little screen reads "Peter" and I hastily flip it open. We haven't been talking very much since I moved out here. He's been busy with his new job and trying to deal with his new boss, who is particularly demanding. And I've just been trying to get settled and accustomed to everything going on out here. But I miss my brother as much as I expected, and I'm excited to talk to him.

"Hey!"

"_Hey, Bells. Are you busy?_"

"Just reading an exciting article on 'high resolution traction force microscopy,'" I say, reading from the page. "I can take a break."

"_That sounds awesome,"_ he says teasingly.

We spend a couple of minutes catching up. Peter fills me in on his week and tells me a little bit about one of the cases he's been working on with Dr. Gifford, and then pauses when I ask him if he's enjoying it.

"_Yeah, it's... good. But I don't know. I'm starting to think more seriously about going back to school sooner rather than later."_

"You think you'll go back to Olympia?"

"_Nah, I don't think so. I liked it there, but it... it would be cool to try something new, I think."_

I push aside some journals, glancing at the photo of Dad, Peter, and me – the one from the front hall in Forks, the one that tightens my stomach every time I look at it – that's on my desk, as I roll over on the bed and get comfortable. "New can be good. If not kind of scary. Where are you looking?"

"_Well, I was kind of thinking about American."_

I sit up quickly, knocking everything on my bed all over the floor. "American? Like the one that's ten minutes from here?"

"_That's the one. It's kind of tough, being here in Washington alone. I could probably adjust, but... I'm not sure that I want to, you know?_ _Would you care?"_

"Would I...." I can't even finish the sentence because I'm so close to tears that it's embarrassing. I have to clear my throat before I can continue. "Yes. I mean, no! I don't care, Peter. Of course not. That would be...." I'm not even sure how to qualify it.

"_So, you're saying that would be okay?" _ He's laughing and I chuckle, feeling ridiculous.

"Shut up. Yes. You're too late to start in September, aren't you?"

"_Yeah, I'd have to wait until the winter term. I've already talked to someone in the department and pulled together my application and recommendations. He sounded pretty optimistic about my admission chances. And if things don't work out there, there are other places to look. I'm glad I took the GRE even though I didn't think I'd need it."_

"Yeah, that was smart. This will be great, Peter. It's a good city - there are a lot of outdoor soccer leagues around here, too. I think you'll love it."

"_I was hoping you'd say that. I haven't told the guys yet, though. Brady's gonna be bummed he'll have one less participant for his drunken shenanigans."_

Peter's joking, but I can feel the excitement of a moment ago ebbing away. _The guys_. I don't know who that includes aside from Brady, but I haven't forgotten that Jasper had said he was planning to move to Seattle after graduation.

Things have been dead silent on the Jasper front since Olympia's graduation... since the moment that had almost torn out my heart and left me on the edge of hyperventilation throughout all of Peter's graduation ceremony. I had tried to focus on my brother and helping him get through the day - I didn't want to make it any worse than I knew it already was - but I struggled, and I could tell that my own issues were pulling at him.

He had hugged me tightly before leaving me with Uncle Waylon and Aunt Mary Beth. We couldn't see his seat from ours, but as I watched him walk across the stage, the toll everything was taking on him was clear in the way he was carrying himself. At least it was to me. It was then that I decided that I wouldn't bring up Jasper again. It was killing me to have the feeling that something was going on behind my back – that Brady and maybe even Eli knew about Jasper and me... but did that mean that _Peter _knew, too? What did he know? And why hadn't he said anything? But maybe that's what I deserved: to be left out of the loop. Since that was exactly what we had done to Peter.

I let that all rise up in me – swirling, growing, surging – until it was a tidal wave of confused misery that threatened to drown me as I sat on the hard metal chair under a gray Washington sky.

So, I watched Jasper cross the stage a little while after Peter and told myself that that was the end of it, my heart tightening to the point of pain as I watched his eyes sweep the crowd, as he looked for... me?

As I took Peter's diploma from him after graduation and put my arm around his waist, I pushed all of my questions down; they were pointless. My flight to D.C. was scheduled to leave Sea-Tac in less than forty-eight hours. I wasn't going to ruin our last bit of time with something that just didn't matter, regardless of the look I'd seen on Jasper's face. The one that had very much told me that it _did_ matter.

Since then, I have kept my dwelling and "what ifing" to a minimum, trying my best to forget all about Jasper Whitlock.

"How is Brady?" I ask.

"_He's good. Starts his new job on Monday, goofy bastard."_

"That's great." There's a short silence as my brain fails to think of what to say because it is now occupied with things about which I've been trying not to think: thoughts of Jasper and what he might be doing. Has he found a job? An apartment? Lucy was supposed to graduate a couple of weeks ago – had he gone back to Texas for that?

As if Peter has received a report from my brain on its current activity, he breaks the quiet. _"Brady mentioned that Jasper is back in town."_

"Oh. I...." _I was just wondering about him. How's he been? Does he ask about me? _ I clamp down on the questions I want to ask and search for something that's remotely appropriate._ "_Yeah? Was he in Texas?"

"_Yeah, he's been there since graduation, I think."_

"Oh. Good. His m-" _His mom must be happy to have him around_, I want to say but I stop before I destroy this conversation, which is rapidly growing awkward. "That's good."

"_So, you haven't talked to him?"_

Peter's question takes me by surprise, even though I maybe should have suspected it was coming. After all of this time, to hear Peter mention Jasper is... disconcerting and strange, and it doesn't seem he would do it if there wasn't a purpose. I recall our last phone conversation about Jasper and wonder what Peter's going to say this time.

"No, not since March."

"_Why?"_

"Why?"

"_Yeah, I thought that maybe after graduation, you would call him. Or he would call you."_

"And risk pissing you off again? No, I haven't called him since you flipped your shit a few months ago." I know it's too harsh the moment it leaves my mouth, but Peter's unexpected questions have me suddenly on edge. It makes me angry that all it takes is hearing Jasper's name once to light my nerves, no matter how hard I've tried to pretend my feelings for him don't still exist.

It doesn't help that Peter and I are master avoiders, something I think we learned from our parents. On the way to Seattle for my flight to D.C., when Peter had tried to bring up what happened on the common, I had taken one look at how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel, noticed how he was clenching his jaw, and decided it wasn't worth tainting our last few minutes together. But maybe if we'd talked about it before, if we'd gotten some – or all – of it off our chests, I wouldn't be so precariously close to the edge right now. I've never done well with bottling up my feelings, and neither has Peter; paired with the tendency to avoid, the results are often nasty, and have led to more than one sizeable argument over the years.

I continue because he hasn't said anything, and now that we're talking about this, I just want to get it out. "And he hasn't called since... it's been weeks. Probably because I never called him back the couple of times he left messages after... after you and I talked. So, no. I haven't talked to him." My leg is starting to bounce restlessly and I push my palm against my knee to stop it.

"_You don't want to talk to him?"_

"Peter, I thought you didn't _want_ me to talk to him? What's with the questions?"

"_I don't. And I... I want to make sure you're okay."_

"Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"_Because...."_ I can hear him take a deep breath. _"Because I know what happened in Forks, Bella. The day of the funeral. Up in the office. And I know it's been months, but I can't stop.... I just.... Fuck. I don't know."_

I am completely frozen except for my eyelids, which slowly close. _Peter knows, Peter knows_ pounds through my head. I can feel it beating a rhythm inside my skull, making my temples throb. I wonder how long he's known, and as I think about it, some of his behavior in Forks and Olympia starts to click. God, had he known all the way back in March when he'd been such an ass on the phone?

"_Bella?"_

"I'm here."

"_Look, things have been weird since... since graduation, at least, with us. You haven't called much, and when we do talk, I feel like I'm skirting around talking to you about some things, and you've been distant, and I fucking hate it. You're so far away and... it just sucks, feeling like you're not talking to me about... whatever the fuck is going on. Maybe if we just talk about this shit."_

I sigh and try to collect my agitated thoughts. I'm surprised that Peter has perceived our communication that way.

"It does suck, Peter, but what do you want? Do you really want me to talk to you about Jasper? A few months ago, you basically told me he was a whore." The word sticks in my throat as I say it because I still can't believe it's true, no matter what Peter said. "Do you want me to tell you that I think I really care about him? That I miss talking to him? That even though I haven't talked to him in three months, I can't stop thinking about him?" I'm off my bed and pacing, and I stop in front of my window and stare out at the neglected backyard. I take another deep breath. "I'm pretty sure you don't want to hear about any of that since you made it pretty clear that you did not approve of us even _talking_."

"_I just don't understand why you never told me. Why neither of you ever said a fucking thing about it."_

"But- Hang on, neither of us told you? Then how the hell did you find out?" I'm not really surprised to hear this because I couldn't imagine Jasper just telling him, but Jasper and I were definitely the only ones in the room that afternoon, so there's no one else it could have been. Unless Jasper told someone who leaked it to Peter. Maybe that explains Brady's looks on the common.

"_I, um. I found your... uh, the condom wrapper in the office when I was home,"_ he mumbles.

_Fuck_. My skin flushes with embarrassment, and I don't have a clue what to say.

"_And then I confronted Jasper and he confirmed it,"_ Peter continues.

All of my breath leaves me as if I've been punched and it takes me a moment to be able to form words and push them out. "You did _what?" _ I wonder how badly my brother's temper had flared and what he had said to Jasper; I imagine none of it was very pleasant. I only have a moment to think about how Jasper's second voicemail makes a lot more sense now that I know what he wanted to explain, before Peter's speaking again.

"_He... he fucking- It doesn't matter, Bella. I know. And... I... fuck. Were you okay? Are you okay? I mean, what he fucking did...."_ Peter's voice has taken on the angry tone I clearly remember from that conversation back in March.

"Peter, he didn't take advantage of me, if that's what you were going to say. So, just forget it. Kate said the same damn thing and you're both-"

"_Kate? You told Kate?"_

"Yes, I wanted to talk to someone."

"_You wanted to talk to someone. Did you just forget about me?"_ I don't miss that he now sounds more hurt than angry, but my own anger has yet to recede.

"Seriously, Peter? How did you want me to phrase that? 'Oh, by the way, after Dad's funeral, I got a little chummy with your hot friend because I didn't know how to properly channel my grief.' I mean... it wasn't just about that, at all, but... would it have mattered to you how I explained it? You would have said what you were just about to, that Jasper took advantage of me. And I was... I was embarrassed...." I can feel myself starting to lose it so I stop and take a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm my pounding heart and fight back the frustrated tears that are threatening to fall.

"_Bella, no. But..."_

"Then what, Peter? How should I have handled it?"

"_What about the phone calls? You could have at least told me about those."_

"I know. But then I would have had to explain... everything, and I just didn't know how to. I was mortified about how I handled myself and ashamed and Dad wouldn't have...." I pause and focus on breathing. "It's over, Peter. I'm so sorry that I didn't tell you. And it doesn't matter now. It's over."

"_But if you care about him, Bells...."_

"It doesn't matter, Peter, even if I do. He lives three thousand miles away. We have different lives. I'm making new friends, and I'm sure he is, too. I don't know if he'd even want to talk to me now." How could he possibly want to, after I'd brushed him off or completely ignored him so many times?

"_Okay, if you say so."_

"I do. I just want to go back to how we were, before Dad... before Dad died." I can count on my hands the number of times I've said those words out loud and I have to admit that it brings some relief, like I'm starting to break out of a shell that's been protecting me.

"_I don't know if we can. So much has changed with everything."_

I drop back onto my bed, very glad I turned down Jane's invitation for tonight, because I'm exhausted and a nap in my nicely cooled room would be the perfect way to spend the rest of the afternoon.

"I know, Peter. But can we try? At least when it comes to us? I'm sorry I kept things from you. If we had just told you, maybe this all would have been different, and these last few months wouldn't have been so fucked up. And...." With things falling into place, I am starting to see Peter's behavior for what it was.

"_And?"_

"And you just have to remember that you don't have to try to be Dad. I don't expect that, and he wouldn't have expected that. And I may not always make the best decisions, but I can take care of myself. Okay?"

He's quiet for a long moment, and I can picture him dragging his hand through his hair. _"I know. I got out of control. When I realized what had happened with you and Jasper, I just went a little crazy, I think. Maybe a lot. I'm sorry, Bella. For all of it."_

"It's okay, Peter."

We sit quietly for a minute, and I can feel my breathing starting to return to normal.

"_Well, I'm glad we got that out of the way,"_ he says, chuckling dryly.

"Me, too."

"_So... the reading I so rudely interrupted – what was the article, something about traction control and colonoscopies?_ _That's for work? I don't know what either of those things has to do with dissecting frogs."_

And like that, it is over. Months of secrecy and lies by omission, and the constant worry in the back of my mind about how things are with my brother. I feel lighter, and when I remember that we started the conversation with Peter's news about potentially coming out to D.C. in the winter, I feel even better.

As I laugh and tell him he's a jackass, I ignore the part of my brain that refuses to remain quiet.

It is whispering a steady, "Jasper, Jasper, Jasper," and I try to talk louder and laugh harder, and hope that it will eventually just grow tired and stop.

~ * ~

The following Friday, I'm in the family room with all of my housemates, watching some movie that Felix picked up on his way over. After I catch myself dozing off for the third time, I decide I should stop trying to fight it.

"I'm going to bed before I completely pass out." I stretch and then stand, gather my water bottle and my plate from the pizza we had for dinner, and take them to the kitchen.

"Okay, Bella," Jane says as she nudges Felix away so that he can take the end of the couch I've just abandoned. "See you in the morning? We were thinking about maybe going out to breakfast. Lots of the places around are having holiday specials. 'Independence Day Pancakes' or whatever."

"Sure, sounds good. Night, guys." I pick up Dad's old USC blanket, which Peter had sent to me along with a batch of my stuff a couple of weeks ago, and a chorus of "good nights" follows me as I head upstairs.

In my room, I turn on my iPod and hit "shuffle" before ducking out to wash my face and brush my teeth in the bathroom I share with Heidi. The other two girls have their own bathrooms attached to their rooms, but so far things have been fine with sharing. Heidi and I are about the same degree of messy and we haven't annoyed one another yet. It helps that she goes to work a little bit later than I do, so we don't have to fight over who gets the shower when.

When I get back to my room, my phone is beeping with a text from Peter: "How are things there? I hope you have a good weekend." I type back a quick answer before plugging in my phone to charge.

Since the Big Talk the previous weekend, we've been emailing more and have started to make plans for him to come out and visit in a few weeks so he can look at American in person. It's a relief, this return to normalcy, and I've been in a good mood all week.

I have a tank top halfway over my head when there's a knock on my door.

"Bella?" Jane calls.

"Hang on!" I stumble toward the door, hastily pulling on a pair of sweatpants. When I open it, Jane is grinning at me.

"There's someone here to see you!"

"What?" I stare at her dumbly.

"There's a guy here to see you! He's downstairs."

"But it's like eleven." I check my alarm clock. "11:35! And I don't know anyone around here."

She shrugs. "He asked for you. He has a bag. Felix is waiting with him in case he's a serial killer." She giggles and turns around.

Something occurs to me as I start to follow Jane into the hall, pulling my door shut behind me so that the cool air doesn't escape, and I can feel my face break into a smile. "Is it my brother?" Was that what his text message was about?

Jane pauses at the top of the stairs with her hand on the railing. "He's the one in your pictures, right?" I nod. "No, this guy is blond. _Really_ tall." She holds her hand way above her head. "And _hot_," she whispers and fans herself with her hand before starting down the stairs.

I barely have, "Blond?" halfway out of my mouth before my throat closes and I'm choking on the word. I blink a couple of times as I try to get my body to start working again, and I am vaguely aware that Jane is looking over her shoulder and staring at me.

I grip the railing tightly and take the first step down. There's no way. There's just _no way_ it's him, but there is only one blond guy who comes to mind. Who is tall. And could have a bag, as if maybe he had traveled to get here.

The thud of my bare feet on the old wood steps seems loud to my ears, and I make a concentrated effort to walk slowly and not slip, although I am really having to fight the urge to run down the rest of the flight and see if I could possibly be right.

Jane reaches the bottom and disappears in the direction of the family room, but not before saying, "She's on her way, although she's being slow," and jerking her thumb over her shoulder. I hear a low, murmured response, but can't make out the words.

I see Felix first. He's standing in the entryway with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes shift to the side and then back to me, and I recognize the posture as my brother's defensive "protecting the weaker sex" stance, which always used to irk Lauren and me at parties. I want to groan and roll my eyes, but a pair of sneakered feet comes into view and I'm afraid if I try to say anything, it will just come out as a squeak.

Muscular calves, dark cargo shorts, the bottom of a t-shirt, a hand in a pocket.

There's a blue duffel bag over a shoulder and that's when I avert my gaze and stare at my feet as I take the last couple of steps. I don't know if I'm afraid to see that it _is _him, or afraid to see that it _isn't._ My hair has fallen across my face, so when I start to turn and look up, I have to reach up and pull it back.

I'm just dropping it over my shoulder when I finally make eye contact with the blue eyes that have been ever-present in my thoughts for months. They're guarded and wary, but at the same time they look... hopeful.

My emotions are jumbled and I feel as if it takes me an hour to sort them out and decide which one is the strongest. It is when the eyes brighten and the small line between them smoothes out that I realize I'm smiling, too.

As it is never far from my thoughts, his name comes to my lips easily, and my vocal cords finally loosen enough to let the word escape.

"Jasper."

* * *

**Thanks to all of our readers for hanging with us. We love to hear from you, and we appreciate every review - even the angry ones :)**

**Legna betaed it all. The next chapter will be up on Thursday (2/18). **


	17. Tonight, Tonight

**The **_**Twilight **_**series is the property of Stephenie Meyer - No copyright infringement is intended. **

**This entire fic is dedicated to JAustenlover.**

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* * *

**

_**Tonight, Tonight **_

_**~ * ~**_

_**Bella Swan**_

"So, you know this guy, then?" Felix's voice pops the bubble Jasper and I are in and we both turn to look at him.

"Yes," I say, chuckling. "I know him. At ease, soldier."

Felix grins and slaps Jasper's back. "Sorry about that, man. Just had to make sure. A whole house filled with pretty girls, you never know who might come along and try to take advantage of the situation."

I think I see Jasper flinch slightly at Felix's words, but he recovers quickly. "No problem. I would have done the same thing. And thanks for looking after them. This one in particular," he says, nodding at me. His tone is light and easy but that little bit of tightness around his eyes has returned.

"Well, you don't have to worry about that. Felix is _always_ overreacting." Jane appears from behind Jasper, sticking her tongue out at Felix. "I'm Jane." She extends her hand to Jasper. "That's Felix, obviously. You're not Bella's brother, so you must be...?"

"Oh. Jasper." He shakes her hand. "I'm Bella's... I'm a friend of her brother's." He looks at me and shrugs, a half-grin pulling at his lips.

I realize I haven't moved since we made eye contact, and I take a step toward him. My hands twitch at my sides, and my whole body is very aware that Jasper is _close_. Just a couple of steps away. And there's nothing standing between us. Not literally, at least. Not my brother, not Jasper's friends. I briefly consider what Jasper's reaction might be if I just jump on him, but decide that maybe it would be better to play it cool. I can probably make some assumptions about his intent, given that he is standing in my hallway, three thousand miles from home, at nearly midnight on a Friday. But since I haven't actually spoken to him in over three months, I decide it's probably better to wait until we've at least exchanged more than pleasantries before I do anything potentially embarrassing.

I can feel my smile fade as I remember the last time I did something embarrassing with Jasper, and I find myself starting to get anxious about what he's doing here, and what kind of metaphoric barriers might be in our way.

"Are you staying for long?" Jane asks Jasper.

"I'm not sure. Bella didn't know I was coming, so... we have to work that out." He glances at me and smiles, but then he takes a step toward me and his smile dims a bit. He looks as if he's about to ask me something when Jane speaks again.

"So you just got here? To D.C.?"

"Uh, yeah. My flight landed at 9:15, and then I had to figure out how to get here. That was interesting." Jasper is looking at Jane as he speaks to her, but he keeps sneaking glances at me.

"You must be exhausted. I hate traveling. Did you eat on the flight?"

I love Jane, I really do – I'm lucky that I really like _all _of my housemates so far – but my anxiety level is climbing and the deep breaths I'm trying to take without being obvious are not really helping.

"I had a box of something that might have had a sandwich and chips... it was hard to tell." Jasper is dragging a hand through his hair, and I start to wonder if I'm feeling this nervous because he is.

"Oh, hang on a sec, and then you guys can escape." Jane leans back and yells toward the family room. "Hey, Char!"

"Already got it." My third housemate appears from the family room carrying a plate of pizza and a bottle of water. She extends them to Jasper. "I'm Charlotte. We have soda and beer, too, if you'd prefer."

"Oh, okay. This is fine, thanks." Jasper reaches for the plate and bottle, but as he does so, his bag slips from his shoulder. While he's adjusting his hold on it, I step forward and take the food from Charlotte.

"Thanks, Charlotte."

"No problem, Bella. Here." She stuffs some napkins under the pizza. "Enjoy the visit, Jasper. I'm sure we'll see you around." She disappears back into the family room with a wave over her shoulder.

"Thanks." He throws me a look, his eyebrows drawn together, and I have to stifle a giggle. I wonder if he had any idea what he was walking into that. Actually... _had_ he known what he was walking into? I'm growing even more restless, and I'm ready to get Jasper upstairs so we can talk.

"Okay, we're heading up no-" A loud voice from the other room cuts me off.

"Hi, Jasper, I'm Heidi!"

"That's all there are, I promise," I say as I laugh out loud at the expression on Jasper's face.

He grins and shakes his head. "Hey, Heidi," he calls.

"Toothpaste is in the medicine cabinet," she yells back. "Please don't pee on the seat!"

"Uh, okay," he returns, looking overwhelmed but grinning at Jane who is giggling like mad.

"Just roll with it, man. It's the only way to survive around here." Felix claps Jasper on the shoulder as he walks past us. "All right, ladies. Let's finish this thing sometime tonight."

Jane waves over her shoulder as she follows Felix into the family room and Jasper and I are suddenly – and finally – alone.

We're standing much closer now – just a couple of feet apart – and the food I'm holding is starting to feel heavier and heavier as my hands itch to touch him, even if it's just his arm. I exhale hard and try to focus.

"So, you can eat in the, uh, kitchen." I point toward the back of the house with the bottle. "Or we can take it up to my room, if you want?" I try to keep my voice steady but I'm pretty sure that I sound as uncertain as I feel. Does he want to go up to my room? Is that too forward? I feel like I'm fifteen and Dad's going to pop out from somewhere, service revolver in hand, and remind me about the "door open, feet on the floor" rule. And then I feel stupid for wondering if that's _too forward_ given what happened the last time we were alone.

He glances toward the stairs and then back to me. "Your room would be great, if that's okay with you. And let me get that." He reaches out and takes the plate of pizza from my hand. As he eases it from my grip, his fingers brush mine, and it's all I can do not to jump at the unexpected contact.

I take a deep breath and nod as he slowly pulls his hand from mine. He focuses his eyes on me, and I turn away slowly, reluctant to break the eye contact and curious to know what that expression was that crossed his face when our skin met.

"Good night, again!" I holler as I start up the stairs, and their voices follow me as they did not more than a half hour ago, except now they're calling out good nights to _us._

I glance once over my shoulder on our way up the stairs and find Jasper pressing his lips together tightly, his eyes on his feet. I quickly turn my head before he catches me staring, and concentrate on getting to the second floor intact.

As we pass the bathroom, I think about pointing it out, but I remember what Heidi said and wonder if it made Jasper uncomfortable. Just because he has a bag with him doesn't mean he's planning to stay. He could leave now and still catch the Metro somewhere and get a room for the night. For all I know, he knows someone else here in town and is planning to stay with them.... The closer we get to my room, the more out of control my thoughts are getting, and I quickly try to rein them in before they drive me crazy.

I open my door and step to the side so that Jasper can pass, and then close it behind us. My fingers briefly linger over the lock and I decide not to use it, just in case I am misinterpreting something.

"So," I say as I turn around to face Jasper. The rest of my sentence dies on my tongue at the lost look on his face; it almost looks as if he's in pain. I take a step toward him as my heart starts to beat harder.

He's looking around, surveying the room, the pizza in one hand and his bag in the other. "Where can I put these?" He looks at me and then frowns. "Ah, fuck it." He drops his bag on the ground and puts the pizza on my desk. Before I know it, he has grabbed my hand and is pulling me toward the bed. He sits on the edge, feet on the ground, and gently pries my fingers off the bottle of water, which I am surprised to see that I am squeezing so hard that when he takes it away, the indentations in the plastic don't pop back out.

He drops the bottle on the bed and, still holding my hand, asks, "Do you mind, Bella?"

I have no idea what he wants or is planning, but I shake my head.

"Good," he says, and then both of his arms are around me, and he's turning me and pulling me until I'm in his lap.

It takes me a moment to realize that the loud pounding in my ears isn't all my own heart; some of it is his. My cheek is pressed against his chest, and one of his hands is in my hair, holding me to him. His other arm is around my waist, and he is essentially surrounding me_. _ I remember what it was like when he held me for those few seconds at the funeral home, and then for longer in the office, and it's the same now: I feel _safe_. I smile against his t-shirt because while my overwhelming emotions during those times had been sadness and grief, right now they are happiness and relief. With a simple hug, some of those worries that had started bouncing around in my head downstairs – and have been, in some format, for months – have faded. Not vanished, but receded enough that I can enjoy the feel of his arms around me.

I am at a weird angle to his body and can't get my arms around him without disturbing his hold, so I wrap both of my hands around the arm that is front of me and squeeze. The hand on the back of my head rubs gently, and even though the sleepiness I had been feeling downstairs has all but vanished, I am almost positive I could fall asleep right here.

After a couple of minutes filled with the sounds of us breathing, the slowing thuds of our hearts, and quiet music from my iPod, Jasper's grip on me loosens. I release his arm and start to slide from his lap, unsure what he wants me to do. As my feet hit the floor, he catches my hips and murmurs, "Hey, don't go too far," before turning me and pushing me gently onto the bed next to him. He angles himself a little bit toward me, and I do the same so that we're facing one another. My brain is still having a hard time comprehending that he's _right here,_ and all I want to do is put my hands on him and make sure he's real, but I keep them laced together in my lap.

His first question takes me by surprise. "Are you okay?" I shiver as he uses a fingertip to brush some of my hair from my face and push it behind my shoulder.

"Yes, I'm fine. I should be asking you-"

"No, I mean, since I last saw you... well before that, back in February.... Are you okay? Are things better? Have you been sleeping?" His hand is still on my shoulder, and his fingers run lightly back and forth along the edge of my tank top strap. It is a little difficult to pay attention to his words when he is touching my skin after all of this time, and it takes a moment for his words to really sink in.

When it clicks what he has asked, I open and close my mouth a couple of times, trying to think about how to appropriately respond. The first thing he asks isn't about why I didn't call him back or try to find him at graduation, or anything like that. Instead, he wants to know if I'm any better since Dad died.

Pathetically, my eyes fill with tears. I know it's entirely likely that Jasper is angry with me on some level, and that I'll hear about it soon, but the realization that he still cares about how I feel is overwhelming.

I start to turn my head away from him and move my hand to wipe my eyes before the tears can fall, but before I can, Jasper's hands are cupping my face and turning it back toward him. I am surprised to see that he looks... relieved?

"Finally," he says as he rubs his thumbs gently under my eyes and across my cheeks. "I've been wanting to do that since the first time I saw you, in your driveway."

"Really?" I try to recall that moment but it's fuzzy at best, lost in a haze of misery into which I never try to delve too deeply.

"Every time you cried, I was almost painful for me to not just grab you so I could wipe away your tears," he says, his voice quiet, his hands still on me.

"Why didn't you?" I whisper. I wonder how much less excruciating the whole week would have been if easy touches from him had been scattered throughout it – his hand on my back or his arm around my shoulders. Would that sense of serenity I had around him have been more intense and longer lasting?

His forehead creases and one of his hands falls away. "Bella, I didn't know you. I couldn't... touch you. It wouldn't have been right and... I just couldn't. But I really wanted to. It killed me that I couldn't."

I nod, understanding what he is saying. "And I'm okay. Things are better now. It's gotten... easier, I guess. Like you said it would."

"That's good to hear." His thumb sweeps my cheek once more before he drops that hand, as well. He looks away from me and stares at the floor for a minute before looking back up. "When I didn't hear from you, I didn't know what to think. I was worried about you. And then when it became obvious that you wouldn't be calling again, it sucked to not know how you were...."

Guilt sweeps through me and twists my stomach, but I also feel some relief that he's not bullshitting with me. Even though I hadn't thought I would ever see Jasper again, I had thought a little bit, particularly in the days since talking to my brother, about what I would say to him if I did see him. It almost all revolved around apologizing for all of the things I had done wrong.

"Jasper, I...." It's difficult to look him in the eye, so I look down, staring at a worn spot in the carpet.

"Bella, I don't think I really need a long, drawn out explanation. I talked to Peter."

I jerk my head up to meet his gaze. "He called you?"

"No, I called him. Earlier this week. I wanted to see if I could fix things with him, now that I'm back in Seattle. And what he said gave me some hope that if I talked to you... if I _saw_ you and no one could run away... that we could work things out."

My head is a massive jumble again, and I go through what Jasper said, trying to figure out where to start. "What do you mean 'fix things'?"

He raises an eyebrow. "He didn't tell you?"

"No, I... we haven't really talked about you, and then last weekend, he finally told me that he had talked to you about... oh god." I can feel my face heating furiously, and I drop my eyes to my lap.

"Hey, look at me." Jasper slips his hand up my hair and wraps his fingers around the back of my neck. He squeezes a bit, and I look up. "We have to talk about this. I'm sorry it's taken us so long, but if we're going to make it out of this room, we have to."

I understand the double meaning behind "make it out of this room," and nod. I can already feel tears forming again, born of regret and lingering sadness.

"All right, I don't mind cleaning them up, but I would rather not see them at all." Jasper's hand on my neck tightens while he drags his fingers below my eyes again. I'm relieved to see that he's grinning. Maybe he'll be as immune to my crazy in person as he was on the phone. "So, Peter didn't tell you that we haven't spoken in months?"

"No, he didn't mention that. But you guys were so close, when we were in Forks." I mentally tack "depriving my brother of a friend" to my list of things about which I can feel bad.

"Yeah. Well, I'm sure you can imagine that he wasn't exactly thrilled when he pieced together what had happened while we were there."

"That must have been right before he asked me if I'd been talking to you and told me about...." I glance at Jasper and blink a couple of times. I don't know if he's aware that Peter told me anything. "About Maria?"

He sighs and rubs my neck harder. It feels as if he wants me closer, so I shift myself forward until our knees are almost touching.

"Bella, the stuff he told you about Maria-"

"You don't have to tell me, really," I say, cutting him off. If he's willing to talk about it, it can't be that bad, but I still don't want him to feel as if he owes me an explanation for something that is none of my business.

"Bella." His tone is a little hard and I still immediately. "Sorry," he says. "This is...." He shakes his head. "Never mind. You just need to know that the things Peter said... they were mostly rumors, Bella, that's all. The truth was twisted because, believe me, it was far less interesting than the gossip it generated."

"Jasper, I don't care, really I don't."

"How can you not care?"

I shrug. "It's in the past, for one thing. It was college, for another. I should have just called you and talked to you about it. I didn't have any reason to distrust you, and I let myself get caught up in what Peter was saying. He got really angry and I was afraid of making things with him difficult."

"I hate that he was like that with you. You were already dealing with a lot." I can feel the tension in his hand on my skin, and I can see the muscles in his jaw flex when he stops talking.

"So was he, though. With everything that was going on, I think we both sort of cracked and failed to handle anything well."

"Yeah, but-"

I shake my head and run my fingers along the raised arm that is connecting us. "He was just trying to watch out for me. He fucked up – we both did – but he was just... being Peter... being my brother."

"I know," Jasper says quietly. "I would have done the same thing with Lucy, probably." He twitches a little and closes his eyes, and I hope he is able to stop that mental image before it gets very detailed. I press my fingers harder into his arm, and he opens his eyes to look at me.

"But things with you guys are okay now?" I ask.

"We talked and came to an understanding. I don't know if everything is perfect, but he didn't want to kill me when he left, which is a step up. Plus, he gave me your address." He draws his fingers through my hair and plays with the ends a bit before he drops his hand. I pull my own hand away and immediately feel colder because we're not touching.

"I'm so sorry about that. If I had known...." I sigh and shift uncomfortably on the bed. Ever since Peter had told me that he had confronted Jasper, I've worried about what Peter might have said and if it would have made a difference if I'd been there to explain what happened. "I'm so sorry you had to deal with all of that crap on your own just because I was too afraid to call you back."

"Nah, it's okay, I get it. I really do understand where Peter was coming from, even if I think he could have gone about it differently. Family is important, particularly when-" He stops and frowns, and raises his hand to touch my cheek. "When you don't have much," he finishes quietly.

"Yeah." I look down for a second and then back up at him. "But it doesn't give me an excuse for being such a bitch. First, I was terrible to you at the house, that night, after... and then I didn't call. I think I was just afraid...."

"What were you afraid of? You said that before, too." He picks up my right hand with his left and I marvel a bit about how much bigger his hand is than mine as I try to organize my thoughts.

"I think I was afraid," I start, "of how I was feeling, or how I _thought_ I was feeling, at least. I was so confused and everything was such a mess...." I look up at him, trying to determine if I'm making sense despite my ineloquence. He smiles and it's encouraging, so I push forward. "I loved talking to you – in Forks, on the phone, whatever – but I just couldn't figure out how it would work if we tried to make it more... and then when Peter freaked out, I stopped trying to rationalize calling you, no matter how much I enjoyed it."

Jasper nods and rubs his thumb over the back of my hand. "I won't say it didn't suck, because it did. I went from having one Swan to two to none before I could realize what was happening, and that neither of you actually came to me to voice your concerns or ask me about what the fuck was going on... that hurt." My stomach starts to ache about what I had done to this poor guy who had been nothing but nice to me, and I take a deep breath. I start to slip my fingers from his but he clamps down on them. "Hey, I'm not telling you to upset you, Bella, or to make you feel bad. I just want to get all of this shit out there so we can deal with it, okay?"

I let him pull my hand back and spread my fingers wide when he pushes his between mine. I have to admit that it's refreshing to have him be so open after all of those phone conversations we'd spent dancing around what we probably both wanted – and didn't want – to talk about. "I'm so sorry, Jasper. I really am. I should have given you the benefit of the doubt. I should have let you talk about what happened when you wanted to. At the very least, I should have returned your calls." I hope he knows I'm being sincere, because I have no idea what else to say to apologize.

"It's okay, Bella. It seems to have worked out."

"Has it?"

"It has." He lifts his other hand and draws his thumb down my chin before his fingers return to the back of my neck.

"But what about...." I'm afraid to say "job" and "apartment" because even if asking him up to my room wasn't too forward, that _definitely_ is. "Everything?"

"We'll work it out."

"You seem certain."

It's a moment before he answers, and he looks thoughtful. His thumb rubs steadily over my collarbone. "Now that I'm here with you, I have to say that it's the most certain I've been about anything since the last time I saw you."

"At graduation?"

He nods slowly, his hand still heating the skin of my neck.

"And what were you certain about then?"

"That you were beautiful." His voice is low, his eyes bright as he focuses on me. "That I cared about you more than I had realized. That I had to see you again."

I can feel my breath hitch in my chest at his admissions, which sound so simple but were really months in the making. I want to tell him all of the same things but am afraid they will sound trite, now. I settle on something else that is the truth. "I'm glad you did."

"Are you?"

"Definitely." I nod and squeeze his hand to emphasize my point and to try to chase away the uncertainty on his face and in his voice.

"Well, that's a relief. I wasn't sure what the reception would be like."

"I hope it wasn't disappointing."

"It was not," he says quietly, smiling.

We sit for a minute, our fingers tangled together, his other hand rubbing my skin.

"You must be tired."

"No, I'm fine." I hadn't even realized I was yawning, but when he mentions it, I can feel in my eyes how tired I am.

"Okay, Bella." He grins as I try to hide another yawn behind my hand. "You were probably in bed when I got here."

"Um, I wasn't there quite yet." I look down at my attire for the first time since he arrived and realize what a mess I am in an old tank top and ratty sweats. I tug on the bottom of the tank and look at my clock, surprised to see it's almost one, before looking around the room. My eyes come to rest on my desk. "Oh, your pizza! It's cold now. Let me go heat it up." I start to get off the bed, and his hand slips across my shoulder, but he tugs me back by my hand.

"I'd rather you didn't."

"Why?" I resettle on the edge of the bed, still ready to get up.

"I am really not inclined to let you out of my sight right now."

"Oh." I can feel what is probably a very dopey smile pull up the corners of my mouth. "So, does that mean you're staying here?"

He glances at his bag and then me. "That's what I was thinking. But I did look up nearby hotels, so I can go to one of those. Or if you guys have a couch, I am perfectly happy to spend the night there."

"No. No couch," I say, my hair brushing my shoulders as I shake my head.

"No? Why's that?"

I look at him for a long moment and then decide that since he has done nothing but put himself out there all night, that I should do the same, even if it's just a baby step. "I'm not really inclined to let you out of my sight, either," I whisper.

We haven't gotten any closer but it suddenly feels as if we're only inches apart. Centimeters, maybe. I study Jasper's eyes and his flicker down to my mouth. His hold on my hand tightens and I reciprocate, shifting my grip to sweep my thumb up his palm. When he leans toward me, just the slightest bit, I know I'm not imagining it, and my heart rate starts to accelerate, _again,_ like it did before the almost-kiss in Forks, but this time out of anticipation more than nerves.

His free hand runs up my arm, warm against my chilly skin. The tension between us, if it hadn't been obvious before, certainly is now, and I can feel it increasing. I feel as if I'm being pulled closer and closer to him, and when his hand slides back into my hair, and applies just a little bit of pressure, I don't need any additional encouragement.

Our mouths meet softly, almost tentatively – nothing like our first kiss in Forks. His grip in my hair tightens a little bit and I keep my head still while he brushes his lips over mine. It is gentle and sweet, and a hundred times better than anything I've imagined over the last few months.

As nice as it is, I'm not surprised to realize that I immediately want more. One of my hands is still in my lap and I move it just a little bit forward to Jasper's knee. My fingers touch both his shorts and the skin bared just below the hem, and I slip my finger between the material and his leg, and run it lightly back and forth across the width of his thigh.

His lips still for a moment and I swear he's holding his breath, but then he presses his lips more firmly to mine. I tilt my head, and when I open my mouth slightly, he follows suit. Our tongues meet, and it's as if a fire that has been languishing, waiting to be kindled, suddenly flares up, hot and intense.

I grip his leg firmly at the same time he releases my hand and slips his arm around my back. I put my newly freed hand on his chest, remembering the firmness of his entire torso and how it had looked unclothed. He is rubbing my back and pulling me toward him, and I'm about to move even closer, aiming for as much body-to-body contact as possible, when he breaks the kiss and pulls away.

He's panting lightly and his breath blows across my neck as he presses the side of his face to mine.

"Bella, I don't.... God, I want...." He stops talking and takes a deep breath. He moves his head, burying it in my neck, his arm around my back pulling me toward him, and inhales audibly. My own breathing and the pounding in my ears start to calm as he holds me, even though his nose against the curve from my shoulder to neck is driving me crazy. It's an awkward embrace, but his arms are around me and even if he cut off what we were doing, it is nice to be held. I can admit to myself that I want him, _need _him – badly – but I don't feel as if I'm going to break into a million pieces if he doesn't touch me, as I had back in Forks.

He slowly releases me and draws back so that I can see his face.

"Bella, as much as I want to keep doing that and... other things...." He grins, and it's honest and sexy. My hand tightens on his leg, and he releases my hair to gently pull my fingers from his chest and hold them. "You're tired and it's late, and I haven't even been here for two hours. And we should probably take things a little more slowly this time."

I nod, disappointed, but as much as I want to protest and argue with him, it makes sense. Although the circumstances are entirely different, jumping right into bed probably won't solve any problems – and might even create new ones – particularly when I realize that of all the things we just talked about, what happened in the office that day is not among them.

"You must be tired, too," I say, squeezing his leg again.

"I'm still on West Coast time, but I could definitely go for some sleep. It was a long week." He leans forward, hesitating for just a second when our noses are just inches apart, but then touches his lips to mine for a lingering kiss.

It lasts for a few moments, warm and relaxed. More familiar, now. "Okay, I have to stop doing that," he says when he sits back. "But maybe tomorrow...." he leans forward and whispers against my ear. He chuckles when I shiver, and releases my hand before standing from the bed. "You're sure this okay? I don't want you to feel obligated to put me up. You weren't expecting me, I don't know what your plans are."

"Stop. Yes. Now get ready for bed." I open my door and point down the hall to the bathroom, telling him where to find towels and whatever else he might need. He digs through his bag for a minute and then disappears out the door.

I fold down my top sheet and blanket, very glad that I'd just changed the sheets a couple of days ago. My bed is against the wall and I don't know if he'll want the inside or outside, but on a whim, I transfer "my" pillow to the inside, against the wall, before relocating Gregor – a parting gift from Kate – to my bedside table temporarily. I run the uneaten pizza down to the kitchen and quickly wave good night to Heidi and Charlotte, who are still in the family room, before they can stop me and ask the questions I'm sure are imminent.

My cell phone is in my line of vision as I reenter my room.

_How are things there? I hope you have a good weekend._

That was Peter's text message from before. Although Jasper didn't mention it specifically, I assume that Peter knows he's here this weekend. After everything Peter and I had talked about, and what Jasper had just told me, I know that it probably wasn't easy for my brother to have shared my address. This concession and his tacit approval are huge.

I pick up my phone and take a minute to consider a reply; even though I had already answered him, that was before I had realized Peter's intent with the message. I can picture him pacing around his apartment in Washington, worried that he might not have made the right decision.

"He's here. Things are good. I'll call you tomorrow. Thank you and I love you :)", I respond. I wait until "Message Sent" displays, and when I set my phone back down, it's as if another layer of everything that's been haunting me since February peels away.

I'm going through my iPod and don't turn around when Jasper reenters the room and closes the door. I continue to scan through my playlists and almost jump when he wraps his hands around my shoulders.

"What are you doing?" I can feel his breath flutter my hair as he looks over my shoulder.

"Looking for some good music to put on while we go to sleep."

"Here, let me see." He undocks my iPod from the little speakers and starts scrolling through it. I turn to face him and take a moment to study his face while he's distracted. He's biting the very corner of his lip as he concentrates, and I'm not sure I ever remember seeing a guy do something so unintentionally sexy.

"Okay, I've got it. That was pretty easy," he says, breaking me out of my daze.

"What did you pick?" I hold out my hand for my iPod, but he pulls me against him as he reaches behind me to plug in it into the dock. I close my eyes for a moment, enjoying the warmth and solidness of his chest.

I smile when the first song starts to play.

"I'm not going to bother to ask if this is okay since the playlist is called 'Songs for Sleeping,' but...."

"What? There are plenty of nice lullabies in 90's grunge."

I look up at him just as he grins down at me and his mouth is so close that it's hard to ignore. But before I can stretch up and kiss him, he pulls back, taking my hand and leading me to the bed.

We climb in and I was right – he prefers the outside. I get comfortable on my left side so I can look at him.

"Oh, can you get the light?" I point to the one on the table next to the bed.

He rolls over to reach it, and his t-shirt pulls up to expose some of his back above the waistband of the gym shorts he's wearing. It's not enough to show any of his tattoo, but the thought of it is tempting and taunting, and I have to struggle to clear my face of whatever look I'm sure had overtaken it before he turns back to me.

"Tonight, Tonight" starts to play as Jasper gets settled on his right side.

"Need anything?" I ask. "Sure you're not starving?"

"No, I'm good. Well, except for one thing." He props himself up on his elbow and leans forward, and I inch a little bit toward him to make it easier for him.

His lips are a nice contrast to the chilly air of the air conditioning, even though his mouth is lingeringly cool from his toothpaste. I move my hand toward him, and he catches it with his own and draws it to his chest. It is obvious in the way his hand grips my fingers, how his tongue moves against mine – stronger and more insistently as the seconds pass – that he is struggling to keep the kiss just a kiss. I remember what he said, and how reluctant he had looked to stop kissing me before, and surprisingly, that is what convinces me to stop. I run my tongue once more along his and then kiss him lightly twice before drawing away from him.

"I really don't want to screw this up," I say softy.

He blows out a long breath and nods. "Me, either." He touches his lips to my forehead and then tugs the sheet up around my shoulders. "Good night, Bella."

"Good night, Jasper."

The routine is so familiar, yet different, and for just a moment, I wonder if I fell asleep on the phone and these past few months are the resulting dream. My eyes are sliding shut and I've nearly convinced myself this is true when Jasper picks up my hand, which was lying between us, and his hand is so big that mine is lost in it. I smile as I fall drift off, knowing that the safety and security I feel from the simple touch is nothing but real.

* * *

**Everybody wish SweetDulcinea a very happy birthday! If we could, we'd have Jasper show up at your door to bring you a present. Maybe Peter, too? :)**

**Legna betaed it all. The next chapter will be up on Saturday (2/20).**

**(I am sucking at review replies right now. Busy times, but I love you all and I appreciate your words, jsyk)**


	18. Today

**The **_**Twilight**_** series is the property of Stephenie Meyer - No copyright infringement is intended. **

**This entire fic is dedicated to JAustenlover.**

_**Today **_

_**~ * ~**_

_**Bella Swan**_

My disorientation the following morning lasts only a moment. I quickly remember why my bed is warmer than normal and why there's a leg touching mine. I rolled over at some point during the night and wake up facing the wall, but after my head clears, and before I open my eyes, I can tell Jasper is close to me. Only our feet are touching – one of my feet resting on one of his – yet I can hear his steady breathing. When I'm awake enough to open my eyes and look over my shoulder, he's facing my back, still asleep.

He's in the middle of the queen-sized bed that came with this room, on his stomach, with one of his arms tucked under his pillow. His hair is falling over his face, but as I turn over and try not to disturb him, I decide to leave it and not risk waking him, even though my hand is halfway to him before I stop it. The muscular topography of his back is well-defined beneath the thin material of his tightly stretched t-shirt, and I find it very difficult not to touch him.

It's amazing that less than twelve hours ago, I had been contemplating that I might never see him again. I watch him for a moment, pondering the surreality of his presence, but I don't dwell on it too long. I'm irrationally afraid that if I think about it too much, I'll really wake up and will be alone.

I slide carefully down the bed and off the end. The hallway is silent when I ease out of my room, and I quietly shut the bathroom door behind me. I brush my teeth and wash my face, and make a half-assed attempt to fix my hair.

My door sticks a little as I try to gently push it back open, but it releases before I have to ram it with my shoulder. The mental image of tumbling through the door and landing on the floor floats through my head, and I almost jump out of my skin when a voice interrupts my quiet chuckling.

"What's so funny?" I was only gone for a few minutes, but Jasper is awake and sitting on the edge of the bed, his long legs over the side, his feet on the floor. He looks a little groggy, and I wonder how well he slept in the unfamiliar environment.

"It's dumb, don't ask. Did I wake you?"

He shrugs and pushes his hair back, as I'd imagined doing. "I don't think so. But I woke up and you weren't here."

"Bathroom," I say, pointing behind me. "It's still early, though. No need to get up yet." I don't know what the rest of the day will hold, if Jasper will want to stay here or go out, or something that doesn't involve me, and the desire to keep him in my bed – near me – is overpowering.

I walk to stand in front of him and don't bother to keep my hands from going to his hair. I lift it from his forehead and then run my fingers through it, rubbing along his scalp, above his ear, as I remember he likes.

He lightly holds my waist and runs his thumbs up and down by my hip bones, over my sweatpants. I'm close to seeing how adverse he would be to me pushing him onto the bed, when he tilts his head and looks up at me.

"How about you get back in bed and I'll be back in a minute?"

His hands nudge me slightly back, and I step away as he stands up. He brushes his lips over the top of my head before he heads for the door.

The sheets are still slightly warm when I climb into bed, and I lie in the spot Jasper had abandoned, snuggling down to wait.

I must have dozed off because when I open my eyes, Jasper is standing at the side of the bed, holding two mugs. There's an expression on his face that I can't quite figure out in my sleepiness, but when I smile up at him, he returns it.

"I guess someone's still a little tired," he says as he puts the mugs on my bedside table.

"I could have gotten that for you," I start, but Jasper shakes his head.

"I ran into Charlotte in the hall. She insisted. She also had some sort of cake thing that she said you really like, but I told her I'd go back down if you wanted some."

"Oh, if it was the one with the crumb top, I love that. We'll have to get some later."

"She's seems nice. She likes to give people food."

"Oh, that's Charlotte. You'll never starve if she's around." I prop myself up on my elbows, watching Jasper, who hasn't moved.

"I know someone who might like that." He grins and then steps forward until his legs are bumping the edge of the mattress. He drags his fingers slowly through my hair, which is spread all over my pillow.

"Yeah, I'm kind of afraid that when Peter comes to visit, he might never leave," I say, chuckling because I can picture it now, and have thought about it before. All Charlotte will need to do is wave one of her homemade pies under his nose and he'll be a goner.

Jasper nods slowly, his eyes a little unfocused as he watches his hand. "I was thinking that as nice as the coffee is, I'm not sure I'm quite ready to wake up yet." He looks at me uncertainly.

I don't know what's going on his head, but I reach up and rub his arm. "Me, either." I start to roll over to make room for him, but he touches my shoulder to keep me in place.

"The other side is fine."

I grip the sheet tightly to keep myself from reaching up to hold him as he crawls over me, his body incredibly close to mine, and takes the place I had occupied. I turn my head to look at him.

"So, Peter's coming to visit?" he asks as he pulls the sheet up over his hips.

"Yeah, in a few weeks, I think. To look at American."

"Oh yeah, that's pretty crazy, huh? Going back to school right away. Good for him."

"Yeah, I'm glad I'm taking this year at the lab. I'm not sure I could have gone back to a classroom so soon." I watch as Jasper starts to fiddle with the ends of my hair again.

"It's good, your job?"

"Yeah, I like it so far. The people are mostly nice and so unbelievably smart that it's intimidating. But I've already learned a lot. Hey!" I say, realizing something. "I don't even know what you're doing. Tell me about it."

He frowns a little, and I think about pushing at the corner of his mouth to make that stop. Then I realize how often I'm thinking about touching him or him touching me, and I know I have to stop doing that if we're going to have any success taking this thing – whatever it is – slowly.

"There's actually nothing to tell. I haven't been able to find anything yet."

"No?"

"Yeah, the market in Seattle is turning out to be a lot tougher than I'd anticipated." His frown deepens and he shrugs.

"What will you do?" I roll a bit onto my side so that it's easier to see him without straining my neck.

"I'm not sure. I might expand my search outside of Seattle. Maybe down to Portland and over to Spokane. Or I've thought a little about trying to be closer to my family. Austin or Dallas might have some opportunities. Although, that's tricky because we never really know when Dad might be transferred."

I nod, but disappointment creeps into my chest and sits there like a rock when he mentions returning to Texas, although I really have no idea what I was expecting him to say. It makes me realize that although we both said last night that we didn't want to screw "this" up, we never defined what "this" is. Are we going to try the long distance thing and see how long we can hang in there until never seeing one another becomes too unbearable?

"What's that look for?" Jasper reaches up and traces my lips with his finger, performing the very action I'd been contemplating doing to him. When I turn my head a little bit, his fingers brush over my cheek. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, not sure I want to say what's on my mind, but knowing that I have to. Jasper is _here_, right now, and I know that we have to be open and honest or "this" – whatever it is – will never make it out of his room, as he said last night.

"I.... What...." I can't seem to pull my thoughts together and am suddenly very frustrated by my inability to express myself, something I never had much trouble with before I met Jasper. I blow out a hard breath and stare at the ceiling, feeling his fingers leave my face and move to my arm.

I study a weird pattern of bumps in the white paint above my bed for a moment before bracing myself and shifting my head to make eye contact with him before I start talking. "What are we doing here? Are you just going to visit for a couple of days and after you leave, I won't see you again for months? Are we going to talk on the phone every night and send emails, and that will be enough? Are we-"

"Bella, stop." His finger across my lips accompanies his words and succeeds in cutting me off. I sigh and watch him, wondering if my confusion is as evident on my face as it feels. "If there's one thing I've come to realize over these past few months, it's that I don't think I can be away from you for very long."

My body reacts to his words: my stomach tightens nervously as I wonder where he's going with this; my heart starts to pound, and I can feel my pulse everywhere in my body.

"These past few months have been torture. Not just not talking to you, but also not seeing you. Not being able to be near you and touch you." He pauses and rubs the back of his fingers slowly along my cheek before pulling his hand back. "Being here now just enforces that. I feel...." He stops talking and laughs a little, but it sounds forced.

"You feel what?" I roll over a bit and put my hand on his shoulder, missing his hand against my skin.

"This is going to sound stupid," he says, shaking his head a little.

"Try me."

We watch each other for a moment, and then he nods, the expression on his face becoming more resolute. He abruptly sits up and grabs my shoulders, and pulls me until I'm sitting in front of him. We're cross-legged with our knees touching, and he picks up one of my hands and weaves his fingers around mine before he speaks again. "Don't say I didn't warn you...." I squeeze his fingers to encourage him because finally I feel as if we could be on the same page and that whatever he is going to say will be something I want to hear.

"Ever since I got here last night," he begins, "since I saw you downstairs, things have felt... right, I think. I don't want to say 'complete' because this isn't a fucking movie, but seeing you makes me not want to be anywhere else. Waking up here, even if you weren't in the bed, felt good because I knew you were somewhere close...." He looks down and his hair falls across his face. He shakes it back when he looks up. "I want to be near you, Bella. And if that's not what you want, I'll deal with it, but I really hope it is."

I release the breath I've been unconsciously holding, and pick up his other hand, and the whole of our four points of contact is greater than the individual touches. "It is what I want. It's almost a... relief, maybe... having you here. Like I can stop worrying, even though I'm not even sure I knew I was."

Jasper's face brightens as he smiles, and my breath catches in my throat because it's the most gorgeous thing I've seen in months. "Yes, that's it."

"So, what would you do?" I grip his hands tightly and try to speak slowly, not wanting to get my hopes up in case I've misinterpreted what he just said. "Look for jobs here?"

"Yeah, maybe I can go through some listings while I'm here, talk to some people before I go back.... I take it by that smile that you're okay with that?"

When he mentions it, I realize I'm grinning, and then it almost feels like I can't smile enough. "Yes. That sounds... awesome."

"Good," he says, and as he watches me, his expression changes, becomes more intense. I can pinpoint the moment the air between us changes and electrifies.

We move toward one another at the same time, and I lift myself onto my knees, so that when our mouths come together, I'm already practically on top of him. There's heat in the kiss immediately, and it's somewhere between last night's timidity and Forks' raw intensity. I flash back to how it had felt to have his hands on me, everywhere, and I lean into him, eager to feel that again. I drag my fingers up his arms and wrap them around the back of his neck as his hands slide under the back of my tank top.

It's familiar, but different... better... without the veil of sadness and the guilt that had been present every time I touched him in the office. This time, as his fingers touch my skin and he rubs my back, I can enjoy it for what it is: shared desire.

But when I remember what he said last night about wanting to take things slowly, I feel like I'm taking advantage of him, as I did last time. Even if he wants me, are the circumstances right?

The moment that thought crosses through my mind, I can feel goose bumps break out on my arms and legs. Is he kissing me and thinking about last time? Does he still think about how I forced myself on him? I break the kiss abruptly, pulling back to look at him.

"What's wrong?" He looks concerned and his hands stop moving on my back.

"Jasper... this last time we did... this... look what happened." I pull away from him and rest my butt on my heels. I tug at the back of my tank to pull it down and suddenly feel self-conscious. "I don't even know if you wanted me, or if you were just humoring me...." I look away, afraid to meet his eyes and see that I was right.

I feel his fingers wrap around my jaw and gently pull my head back so that we are eye to eye. "Bella. It was always about you. Just _you_. The timing... the circumstances...." He's shaking his head as he speaks. "I've thought about what it might have been like if those things hadn't been a factor. Can you imagine?" He grins at me and then leans in to press his lips to my ear. "We probably wouldn't have made it off the front porch."

A shiver runs through me and he chuckles quietly. He loosens his grip on my chin and replaces his fingers with his lips. His mouth softly brushes my jaw and then my lips, and then he pulls back again. "So it was despite the circumstances, not because of, okay?"

"Yes, okay."

"And I don't want you to feel guilty about any of it. If anything, I am the one who-"

"No." I cut him off as soon as he says what I was waiting for. "I don't want to hear any of that bullshit about you taking advantage of me or whatever you were going to say. That wasn't what happened and I won't let you think that." His eyes grow wider as I speak. "All of that stuff you just said, the same thing goes the other way, okay? I was... out of control... almost _possessed_, I know that now. But it was still _you_ who made me feel that things would be okay. The times with you were the only ones all week when I felt like the whole world wasn't about to collapse. I know that sounds stupid...." I trail off and stare at my hands.

"Bella, it doesn't." I look up at him as he pushes both hands into my hair and cradles the back of my head. "That's all I wanted. To make you feel better and okay. I know we didn't go about it right way, and I felt sick whenever I thought that you might hate me for it... but I still find it hard to regret what actually happened."

"I couldn't hate you. Ever." His mouth is so close and I really want it on me, and I can feel the last bits of hesitancy falling away.

"So, are we okay?"

I glance from his mouth up to his eyes and nod.

"Okay, because I really have to k-" His words are lost in a mumble as I cover his mouth with mine. One if his hands leaves my hair and curls around me, pulling me toward him. I happily climb into his lap, my thighs coming to rest outside his, as his hands run up and down my back from my shoulders to the curve of my hip. His tongue is hot in my mouth and I angle my head so that it's easier for us to open our mouths wider.

He removes his lips from mine just as both of his hands grip my ass and pull me forward. I slide against him and we both groan as I feel how much this is already affecting him. His lips travel over my neck as I squeeze my knees against his hips.

"Bella, I've thought about this so much...." The words are quiet, muffled against my skin as he moves his mouth up my throat to my ear. I bury one hand in his hair at the back of his neck as I start to drag the other down his shoulder and across his chest.

"Me, too," I whisper.

He sucks on the skin just under my jaw for a moment before pulling back. "Yeah?" His eyes are bright, his pupils dilated, and his whole body shudders under me as I run my fingers across his abdomen.

"Yes." I reach the bottom of his t-shirt and start to tug on it.

"Good, that's good."

Our lips come together for a moment as we drag up each other's shirts. The cool air in the room hits my back and I can feel more goose bumps break out. We lean back at the same time to create room between us to pull off the shirts: first mine, then his.

He groans and shifts under me as his eyes and then his hands make their ways to my breasts. I still for a moment, my hands on his shoulders, as he gently circles my nipples with his thumbs. The light touch feels amazing and I drop my head back as heat starts to radiate from my chest outward, making my whole body feel as if it's on fire.

Because I'm not watching him, I'm not prepared for the sudden, wet warmth that covers my breast as he takes me into his mouth, and I jerk my hips against him. It feels so good that I do it again... and again... until I've started a regular rhythm against him that quickly has us both panting.

His mouth is still on me – his tongue doing crazy, amazing things – while his fingers play with the nipple of my other breast. His other hand is on the outside of my thigh, and then the inside, pushing against my pants, at the apex of my legs.

"You're wearing too much," he says as he straightens up, abandoning my breast as his fingers push firmly between my legs.

I try to respond and fail because what he's doing with his hands feels too good. I need his skin against mine, but I don't want him to stop.

I lean forward and push my face into his neck. His lips are on my shoulder and the gentle kisses he is putting there become decidedly more aggressive as I run my fingers down his stomach and into the top of his shorts. It only takes me a few seconds to close my fingers around him. He's as hard as he was last time, and even though it makes me feel silly, I'm relieved to find that he still wants me. Words are one thing but actions are another, and to have the proof of his desire in my hand makes me feel more confident.

I continue to stroke him as I kiss his neck and his fingers between my legs become more insistent. I slip the fingers of my other hand under the waistband of his shorts and boxers and pull.

"These need to be off." I emphasize my words with another tug.

"Fuck." I lean back and Jasper's eyes immediately find mine. I squeeze him a little harder and his eyes close for a second before snapping open. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." I drag the side of his shorts down and almost have them all the way over his hip when he nods. He pulls his hand from between my legs as he pushes me gently from his lap. I reluctantly release him and slide back, waiting to see what he'll do. He quickly climbs off the bed and walks toward his bag. The ink on his back is even sexier than it was before, and I can't wait to get my hands on it and examine it from less distance than the width of a room. He bends down, shoulder blades rippling the words as he digs through his things. When he straightens and walks back toward me, pausing to push "play" on my iPod, my eyes flicker to his hand and I see that he's carrying a condom.

I don't want to think about it, but can't stop memories of what happened in Forks from crossing my mind. I close my eyes and quickly shake them off, not wanting to ruin this with things that are in the past and can't be changed – things we're trying to move past.

"Hey, you okay?" I open my eyes to find Jasper kneeling on the bed. His hand wraps around my upper arm and gently tugs me toward him, and I slide myself down a few feet until we're both sitting on the foot of the bed.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"This definitely can't be called 'taking it slow,' and we'll stop if you're uncomfortable."

"No." I press my lips gently to his chest as I run my hands over his skin. He's so hot and solid and _here,_ and I want him and have no reservations. When I look up, he's watching me, and the look on his face – a mix of worry and want – helps me make a decision. I'm finally ready to admit what I have been refusing to voice, or really even acknowledge to myself, since February.

"Jasper, I need you."

As the want pushes out the worry in his eyes, he holds my chin lightly to tilt my head, and then presses his lips to mine. His other hand skims down my back and when I feel him pull on the waistband of my sweatpants, I slide off the bed and stand to make it easier. My lips are still on his so I can't see the expression on his face, but when he yanks down my pants and panties, and runs his hands over my bare thighs as I step out of them, a guttural sound erupts from his chest. A ridiculous desperation creeps through me, and I need to have his fingers resume what they were doing before, but first I need him undressed, too.

When I tug on the legs of his shorts, I can feel his hips lift from the bed, and he helps me pull both pairs of shorts off. We're both completely naked for only a moment before he circles my back and ass with both arms and lifts me back into his lap. He drags us both backward until his back is against the wall that runs along the side of the bed. As if we'd timed this, I resume stroking him at the same time his fingers run gently up my inner thigh and come to rest between my legs. He slips his tongue into my mouth as he pushes a finger inside me, and I buck against his hand as I suck on his tongue.

I release his mouth just before I shift myself a bit up and forward onto my knees so that I'm angled above him. He drops his hand from between my legs and grips my hips tightly as I rock my hips forward so that I'm teasing us both by running the tip of him along me. I can feel that I'm ready for him, and the heat and tightness in my stomach is already consuming.

Jasper groans my name against my shoulder as I roll my hips and rub against him. "Okay, you have to hold on," he pants, releasing my hips. "Just for a second." I dip my head down to kiss him just as I hear the tear of the condom wrapper somewhere behind me. He shifts under me, and his movement forces our chests to rub together; my nipples press against his warm skin, and I shiver. I'm not surprised to realize that my need for him is rising exponentially with every second his hands aren't on me.

His hands brush against me as he rolls on the condom and I bite his tongue as I try not to shriek. While it's not as important to be quiet as it was last time, we're still in a house surrounded by other people, and the quiet music won't drown out much. He slides his fingers into me again for a few moments, and I have to pull away from his mouth or risk biting down too hard.

He puts his arm around my waist again to brace me, and I look down to see that he's holding his erection under me, his thumb running slowly over the top side of it. The sight of his long fingers circling himself and sliding up and down is intensely erotic, and it takes a lot of restraint to keep from dropping myself unceremoniously onto him.

"Ready, baby?"

I nod and place my hands on his neck. As my thumbs rub over his throat, I feel him swallowing rapidly, and before he can enter me, I press my lips gently to his. I move my mouth slowly, hoping to convey to him that this isn't all about the heat of the moment, that this is something I _want_, that whatever this is between us goes well beyond a one-time hook-up and a lot of fucked up communication.

Under my hands, his fluttering pulse slows down a bit. I slide my tongue into his mouth as he lowers me down and pushes into me slowly.

It has been almost five months since we were together in Forks, and I haven't been with anyone since, but there isn't much discomfort as he fills me. He's moaning into my mouth - his sounds raw, hot, and arousing - and as my ass comes to rest against his upper thighs, I slip both arms around his shoulders so that I can hold him tightly. We're both still for a moment, only our lips and tongues moving; I don't know what's going on in his head, but I can't stop thinking that he feels amazing under me, and in front of me, and all around me.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he mumbles.

"You do, too," I whisper. He squeezes my back, and then I'm flexing my thighs and hips, rising and sinking unhurriedly, our pace a far cry from our frenzied fucking in Forks.

He runs a hand from my back to my chest, cupping my breast and rubbing gently across my nipple, while his other hand glides over my thighs and back, tugging my hair, kneading my back, touching me everywhere. It is almost overwhelming, and I dig my fingertips into his back to channel some of the energy that's flowing through me.

We gradually start to move faster, and when Jasper shifts his hips, pushing his lower body out from the wall a bit, the new angle drives him deeper into me. I lean away from him and drop my head back, rocking myself on him more forcefully.

"You're so fucking sexy, Bella." He flattens his hand against the top of my chest and then runs it down my skin – his splayed fingers brushing my nipples on the way down – and over my stomach. He turns his hand and runs the backs of his fingers back and forth below my bellybutton; the simple movement is both tender and sensual.

When his hand slips between my legs, I close my eyes and focus on the feeling of his fingers rubbing against me coupled with him moving inside me. The tension in my body is building rapidly.

He seems to sense this because he pulls me back to him, his hand pressed between my shoulder blades.

"I want you to come, baby. Just let go." His words are warm breaths against my ear and are followed by his lips moving along my neck. The speed of his fingers increases and I use his shoulders for leverage as I move on top of him, his body sliding in and out of mine. "Come on," he murmurs, and with a final flick of his fingers, I'm gone, pulsing and quivering around him, my whole body shaking as the tension dissipates and is replaced by pleasure so intense that things go a little hazy around the edges. I squeeze my eyes closed and press my mouth to his neck to stifle my cries.

My heart is still racing, my body still tingling, when Jasper tightens both arms around me and raises himself to his knees with me held tightly to him. I grip his hips with my knees as hard as I can manage as he leans forward and places me carefully on my back.

I extend my legs and wrap them loosely around his waist as he settles over me, his body covering mine. We stare at one another for a long moment as my breathing evens out. There are a thousand things going on in his eyes, creating a whirling blue storm, and they're all difficult to decipher. But there is one feeling in myself that I recognize.

"I really missed you, Jasper," I say softly.

Jasper drops his forehead to mine. "I didn't know what I was going to do if you didn't want to see me." His voice is rough, the emotion behind the words clear.

I curl my arms around his neck. "You don't have to worry about that anymore."

He kisses my temple and then my ear as he slowly starts to move in me again, his hips pushing against mine. I tangle the fingers of one hand in his hair and grip his shoulder with the other, kissing along his jaw until he turns his head and meets my mouth with his.

"Fuck, Bella, you feel...." His thrusts are growing harder and faster, and I lift my hips to meet his, hoping that it feels as good for him as it does for me. "You have no idea how many times I thought about this, about you."

He breathes heavily in my ear as I plant one foot on the bed and raise my hips harder and faster. Within seconds, we're panting and groaning too hard to kiss and he rests his forehead back against mine. I catch my name mumbled with "baby" and "fuck" as he shifts himself onto one elbow and slips an arm under my body. When he holds me to him, his arm bracing me and lifting my lower back off the bed, it is the last little bit that he needs, and my mouth against his doesn't do much to muffle his loud groan as he lets go inside me.

I rub his back gently as he lowers me to the bed and then half-collapses on me. When he starts to raise himself up, I pull him back down.

"Don't leave yet," I murmur in his ear. He nods and complies, using his elbows to keep some of his weight off me.

After a few minutes, our breathing has returned somewhat to normal, and I scratch my nails through Jasper's hair to get his attention. When he looks up, his eyes are a little sleepy, his face still flushed. "Want to get under the covers?"

"Yeah, I think I can move now." He shakes his head a little bit and lifts off me.

I chuckle and scoot myself toward the pillows while he removes the condom and then climbs off the bed. He collects the wrapper from where it landed on the floor as he walks toward my trashcan.

As he returns, I move to give him room to slide in next to me. He pushes gently on my back and I roll all the way onto my side. Once he's situated behind me, he pulls the sheet up over us and puts his arm around my waist.

For a moment, I enjoy the gentle rise and fall of his calm breathing before he speaks.

"Please don't go anywhere this time," he murmurs in my ear. His arm tightens around me and he pulls my body to his, my back flush against his chest, his legs curving behind mine. Our damp bodies fit together as if we've lain this way a thousand times.

When I turn my head to see his face, I meet his lips. It is a simple kiss, different in tone from any of the others we've shared, but it somehow holds more words, more meaning, more everything than all of the others combined.

I reluctantly break away, but I know that I need to respond to what he said. I don't want him to always be worried that I will shut him out or suddenly disappear. We may have started this relationship off on the wrong foot – whether because of circumstance or our own questionable choices is irrelevant – but I recognize that we're being given a second chance, and I'll be damned if I let my own insecurities or fears or messed up perceptions screw up what I think can, and _will, _be wonderful.

I shift so that I can see his face clearly. His hair is all over the place, and I sweep just enough away that I can see his eyes without obstruction.

"I won't. I can't."

It seems too simple, but he nods and accepts it, and whispers "I know" against my lips.

True happiness fills me as I realize that for the first time in months, I can finally breathe.

_Smile for me  
Real wide  
Then you accept what you are  
The transformation is done  
You've become... absorbed into & you know  
I think I know what  
To do...._

**So... with the exception of an epilogue, that's the end. Is everything sorted out? Not entirely, but all three relationships are back on track.**

**The title and the end quote come from Them Crooked Vulture's "Warsaw or the First Breath You Take After You Give Up." **

**The fabulous Legna989 betaed it all. The epilogue should be up in the next week or two. It's the only part of the story that wasn't complete before we started posting.**

**Thanks so much to all of you for hanging with us through our little roller coaster ride. And a huge thank you to JAustenlover for her generous bid and prompts that inspired this story. It's a little (like 50k) more than we promised, but we hope you enjoyed it anyway ;)**


	19. Epilogue: Just Breathe

**This epilogue is **_**also**_** dedicated to JAustenlover... and to everyone else who took the time to read/review this fic. Thank you. **

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**_**Just Breathe**_

_**~ * ~**_

_**Jasper Whitlock**_

"So, that's it then." I survey the pile of boxes containing what little stuff I have left here.

"I guess so," Bella replies, quietly. "It's not as bad as I thought it would be."

"No, I guess not. I'm still dreading it, though."

"We'll be okay."

I'm feeling a little melancholy, but mostly just exhausted.

I run a hand across her bare stomach and then place both of them on her naked hips. "Shower first?"

She leans back into me and I kiss her neck and her shoulder. "Yeah," she says before turning a little in my lap to kiss me. She pulls away after a minute and smiles. "It really won't be so bad; most of our stuff is there already."

"Yeah, I just hate the unpacking part," I say, lifting her off me. I was going to say something else but I'm temporarily distracted by the sight of her bare ass. I reach out to squeeze it but she turns around and my smile widens. Even better.

"Jasper." Her tone is scolding. "Let's move before my brother gets home."

I resist the urge to pull her back onto the couch, and follow her into the bathroom. "Do we get to shower together every day now?"

"I don't know; can you wake up when I do?"

I frown. "Can you start showering at night?"

She laughs and turns on the water. "We've got time to figure that out. We can shower as often as we want, I guess."

"Yeah. I doubt you'll complain about the water bill as much as Peter does."

"I'm going to resist making a joke about you showering with Peter...for my own sake, mostly." She laughs again and we step in.

She laughs a lot now, and the sound of it never gets old. I let her stand directly under the water so she won't be cold, and I wrap my arms around her. Her wet skin, the smell of her hair, the taste of her mouth, the sound of her voice: none of it ever gets old. It's been over a year and it keeps getting better.

"I'm glad we waited this long. It was really hard sometimes – or _tempting,_ I should say – but I'm so excited." She turns and I lean down to kiss her.

"I know, the timing is perfect. I can't fucking wait to sleep with you every night, by the way." She raises an eyebrow and I clarify before she can say something snarky. "I mean literally sleep, too. More or less."

"It's different, right? I know you sleep over a lot, but it's different, don't you think?" She's all cute with her twinkling eyes and I can't help but smile like an idiot at her. She tilts her head back under the water and then wipes it from her eyes and waits for my answer.

"Yeah, it's different." I lean in for another kiss and my hands move to her waist. I nudge her back a bit, trying to get her up against the wall, and then she pushes her shower poof thing into my chest.

"We need to take a _literal_ shower, baby." She's used to the fact that I can't keep my hands off her, and has infinite patience. She's pretty handsy herself most of the time, but I know right now she's mostly worried about Peter coming home.

We quickly get cleaned up and then head back into the main room to get the boxes sealed up before we start loading them into the van. It's been a little over a year, and since nothing ever gets old, and since everything just gets better, we've decided to move in together. Well, we decided two months ago, but it took us a month to find a decent place close to work and school, and then Bella wanted to give her roommates a month's notice as well, to give them time to find someone else to take her room. Between her zoo of a house and me living with her brother, I'm surprised we waited as long as we did.

But it's been kind of a whirlwind of activity since Peter and I moved out here, and only recently did things really start to slow down to a normal pace. Peter and I moved a little over a month after I first came here to see Bella, and both of us scrambled to find jobs. I was looking for an actual start to my career, but Peter just needed something mildly major-related while he waited to start school in January. Jane, one of Bella's housemates, ended up hooking him up with one of her contacts at the National Institute of Mental Health, and he quickly landed an office job assisting a few psychiatrists there. He wasn't doing a hell of a lot with his major, but it was a decent paycheck and a great employer to have on his résumé, as well as a great place to network.

By some stroke of miraculous luck, a little over a month after getting here, I landed a job as a Marketing Coordinator with DC United, the local Major League Soccer team. I'd found it on a job board, and though it wasn't exactly sports management, it was definitely the in that I needed. Not to mention, it was a pretty fun job most of the time, and I wasn't opposed to staying in Marketing if it worked out that way.

In a way, I'm still not sure if it was all luck or something else. After almost half a year of nearly everything going wrong, the moment Bella and I were together and in the same city, everything just fell into place in such a bizarre way that it had me wondering if all the shit with the three of us didn't just somehow happen for a reason. And because things had sucked for so long, it felt even better to have everything go so right.

Of course, just because things worked out nicely upon the move didn't mean that everything was perfect. Both Peter and Bella were still dealing with the loss of their father, and while day-to-day life slowly got easier, both of them still had pretty dark times. On top of that, some of their issues with their childhood – specifically with their mother's absence – were only exacerbated by Charlie's death. Bella still had a hard time trusting anyone, including herself, and Peter constantly struggled to keep a balance between caring for his sister and needing to control every aspect of her life. It wasn't so much that he wanted to replace their father for her, he just had such a hard time facing his own grief that it somehow translated into him obsessively, and somewhat subconsciously, trying to shield her from everything in an attempt to distract himself.

All of this stuff and more came to light after Bella suggested – after a particularly bad fight with Peter, which then somehow turned into a fight among the three of us – that they attend grief counseling. She realized pretty early on that even when they felt happy or content, sometimes the sadness and anger over the loss of their father was still lurking below the surface, affecting the way they dealt with nearly everything. I didn't go to the counseling, obviously, but Bella talked about it a lot with me, and Peter sometimes did, too – and in the end, it had a huge impact on all of our relationships with one another. We all still occasionally deal with the residual shit from the last year, but it's way better now, and the good, healthy place that all three of us are in makes this move an even more logical next step.

Not to mention that I'd just really like to be able to fuck my girlfriend without consulting the schedules of thirty-seven other people. And I think Peter would like to go back to pretending that sort of thing doesn't happen, period.

As we're taping up the last couple boxes, we hear the key in the front door and then it swings open and Pete walks in, a pizza in hand.

He smiles but it quickly morphs into a grimace as he surveys our wet heads. "Thank fucking God you two are moving out."

Bella rolls her eyes. "Oh please, don't make me remind you about Valentine's Day, Peter."

He sneers. "Whatever. Be right back, I need to go bleach the bathroom."

I grab a slice of pizza from the box and call over to him, "You might want to do the kitchen table and the counter, too."

He doesn't turn to me, but merely raises his hand and extends his middle finger.

"You asked for it," I mumble, smirking. Just as I'm about to take a bite, Bella swats me on the back of the head and steals the pizza from my hand. She always prefers my food to her own, and it's a wonder I haven't starved to death yet.

I slide my arms around her waist and in the absence of pizza to eat, I attack her neck instead. She giggles as I place sloppy, open-mouth kisses at the base of her neck, and then the giggles turn to little moans when I make my way up to the spot behind her ear. When she tilts her head to the side to give me better access, my hand slides along her bare arm until I've managed to reclaim my pizza slice.

"God, you're such a bastard," she says, huffing and shaking her head once she's recovered. She takes her own slice from the box, and I squeeze her shoulder before patting her on the butt.

"You've got packing to do, baby. Don't try to distract me."

Peter walks out of the bathroom a moment later, just as the front door opens again and Charlotte bursts in with bags on her arms and a pie in each hand.

"Babe!" Peter's face lights up when Charlotte steps into the room, and then it brightens further when he sees the pies in her hand. He quickly takes them from her as he gives her a peck on the lips. "Are these mine?"

She rolls her eyes and turns to Bella and me, dropping the bags on her arms onto the floor. "I brought a housewarming pie for you guys, and also one for Peter and me!"

"That's awesome, Char, but are you really supposed to make yourself your own housewarming pie?" Bella asks, leaning over to take a look at the pies in Peter's hands.

She shrugs, and after Pete has deposited both plates on the counter, she stands on her toes to give him another kiss. "Well, ours is mostly just for Pete, anyway, and I'm the only lunatic who makes pies in August."

"Is our pie apple?" Peter asks. When she nods, smiling, he grabs her face and kisses her again. "You're the best lunatic girlfriend ever."

Although Peter still lightheartedly grumbles about Bella and me sometimes, Charlotte is another reason why he became more accepting of our relationship. When they met, they hit it off immediately, as Bella and I suspected they would, and it was love at first baked good. Peter quickly became consumed by Charlotte and her awesome cooking, and then suddenly he lost interest in carrying around a grudge over his best friend hooking up with his sister. They got together officially a few months after Bella and I did, and now it only makes sense for Char to take my place at the apartment.

"Okay, Jasper. Let's eat and start loading Alec's van. I told him we'd have it back tonight." I'm halfway finished my second slice of pizza when Bella snatches it from my hand and, with a smug smile plastered across her face, wanders into the living room to tape up the last box.

~ * ~

"Goddamn it. Fuck this fucking thing." I whip the damn Allen wrench and it clangs against the iron bed post. "Why is it so goddamn hot in here?" I grumble out loud to myself. I yank my shirt over my head and throw it and then after a moment, I stretch to pick up the wrench again and give it another go. From the bag, I pick a screw that _looks _like the one in the incredibly vague illustrated instruction booklet and press it into the hole. Of course, it's the wrong fucking screw and it's too small, so it drops into the hole, and then I hear it clink to the bottom of the inside of the post. I curse again and drop the piece of frame I'm working on. The whole thing makes a loud clatter that is both satisfying and enraging.

I stay on my knees, panting and hunched over the scattered pieces of bed, trying to come down from an intense IKEA rage. After a coffee table, three stools, and a bookshelf, I'm about to go on some kind of homicidal rampage.

"Everything okay in here, baby?" Bella's voice comes from the doorway and she sounds mildly concerned, as she should be. I remind myself that she is my girlfriend and that I love her and that this bed is for her, and that somehow, someday, I _will_ figure out a way to actually put it together.

"I fucking hate the Swedish," I mumble, dumping the screws from the bag onto the floor. "What is their goddamn problem with pre-assembled furniture?"

Bella steps into the room and I glance back to find her surveying the carnage. "Aren't you one of them, blondie?" she asks, moving behind me and ruffling my hair.

I jerk my head away and search for the wrench which has apparently somehow fallen into a fucking black hole. "Finnish, Bella. Like, fourth generation. I'm no more Swedish than you are."

"Hmmm." Her fingers dig a little harder into my scalp and I feel my shoulders relax a little. "What if I told you my grandma is Swedish?"

"Well, then I think we should reconsider moving in together. Perhaps _you_ can finish making this damn bed, and I'll move into your old room."

"Hmph. _Mean_." She feigns offense but she kneels behind me and presses her lips to my back. My hands still on the bed frame as she slides hers over my ribs and up my chest. "You didn't flip the switch on the thermostat all the way...I just turned the air on now. It'll cool off soon," she says between kisses. Her lips move slowly over the words on my back and as her nails start to dig into my chest, I feel pretty certain that no amount of AC is going to cool me down now.

When one hand starts to creep back down my abdomen, I exhale roughly. "In case you haven't noticed, we don't exactly have a bed, baby."

"We don't need a bed," she murmurs just before her teeth press into my shoulder. Just when I'm about turn around, grab her, and throw her down on these fucking bed pieces, her lips and hands disappear from my skin. I twist a bit and watch as she peels off her t-shirt and steps onto the mattress and box spring, which are still wrapped in plastic and on the floor next to where I'm working. "We've got a mattress."

"True," I respond, getting to my feet.

"Or a couch." She unbuttons and unzips her shorts and I feel my breathing become more labored. "Or a kitchen table." The shorts drop to her ankles and I groan. There was a time when I thought I'd never be able to shake the image of Bella in Forks, in the office, in a black bra and tiny black panties, but over the past year she's given me pink bows, red lace, black mesh, blue ruffles, and now I have a rather large image catalog to work with. Today it's pale yellow with white trim that looks amazing next to her tanned skin.

"Or a gorgeous coffee table that was a steal at only $29.99." She tosses her bra at me and I catch it and then whip it somewhere in the direction of the Allen wrench. I step onto the mattress, and as soon as I have my hands on her hips, I yank her roughly toward me. Our mouths come together hard and my hands quickly make their way to their respective hangouts – one on her ass, pulling her closer to me, and the other tangling in her hair.

Our tongues move against each other roughly and I realize it's been way too fucking long since I've kissed her. The taste of her mouth always makes me hungry for the rest of her, and after a few moments of kissing, I drag my mouth from hers so that I can taste my other favorite places: the hollow of her collarbone, her earlobe, her shoulders, her tits. I slowly work my way down her body, lowering to my knees as I kiss her stomach. Both hands rest on her hips for only a moment before I pull her down with me.

When she's on her knees in front of me, she places her hands on my shoulders and then slides them to the back of my neck. Our lips meet again in a kiss that is slower and yet more intense than the one earlier. My thumbs slip beneath the elastic of her panties and then I pull away from her mouth. "It's 10:30 and I'm nowhere near finishing this bed..."

"So," she says, kissing along my jaw, "we'll sleep on the mattress. We've got plenty of time. Now, hurry up and take off your shorts."

She's has a point, and it's pretty much how it's worked for us since the day we got together; we go slow and fast at the same time, where applicable. Because our relationship was born out of death, we know how quickly this shit can be taken away, so when it comes to _us _we never slow down. We consume each other, we never wait, we never hold back. We kiss and touch and profess love or desire whenever we feel like it because we know that every single moment counts for so much.

But when it comes to everything else, like the half-unpacked boxes in the hallway, the bullshit do-it-yourself furniture, the take-out getting cold on the table – that shit can wait, because there's plenty of time, and even if there isn't, there's nothing more important, _ever, _than what's happening right now.

"Fuck, I love you, baby," Bella groans as she lowers herself on to me. I'm pretty sure that's always the first thing she says when she's on top, and the feeling is always mutual.

I let go of the balled up panties in my hand and reach up to pull her down to me. We're both already sweating, my skin sticking to the plastic cover on the mattress, but I can feel cool air coming from the vent in the ceiling now. Bella leans forward, her long hair falling around my face as she closes her eyes and starts to bounce faster.

I want to respond, to tell her I feel the same way, but as her hips move faster, I can't seem to form the words. It's not as if she doesn't know how I feel, so instead I just try to focus on the feel of her and my breathing. When she presses her forehead to mine, my heart rate hits dangerous levels and I start to feel like I always do – blissfully overwhelmed and like I'm suffocating under my voracious need for her. I take a few fruitless deep breaths, and just when I feel like I can't get enough of her – _my air_ – and I'm slipping under, she gasps and squeezes me and shudders above me and brings me back again.

"I love you, too," I finally murmur, slipping both hands into her hair. She whimpers and then sighs, exhaling the breath I couldn't catch.

_~ The End ~_

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_**That's it! We hope you enjoyed the ride. **

**We're the luckiest girls ever to have Legna as our beta. **

**All the chapter titles in this fic were song titles by bands from the 90's "grunge era" - J's favorite genre of music. We'll put a link to a playlist of all the these songs on the thread sometime this weekend, if you're interested. **

**Thanks again for reading - we loved hearing from you all!**


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